Project Nexus
by Zeshaika
Summary: Power Rangers inspired AU. A strange phenomenon leaves a few Channel Awesome personalities to discover the mystery behind it. Soon, they find themselves caught in a multidimensional struggle far greater than they could imagine. ON HIATUS
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer**__: Any recognizable characters that appear in this fic are property of their respective contributors at ThatGuyWithTheGlasses , therefore I do not own them, nor do I intend any disrespect toward either the character or the contributor portraying them. Also any concepts/ideas borrowed from Power Rangers/Super Sentai are property of Saban and Toei, respectively. Any other properties mentioned/used are also property of their respective owners._

_**Authors' Notes: **__A few things I should probably mention: Some of the storyline of this will mention a few things later in the story that may be considered spoilers for Suburban Knights. Also, I should probably warn you that for the first couple chapters things are probably going to move a bit slow because I need to get everyone introduced and together, and get through a lot of setup to the plot before we can get into the story proper. Hopefully, though it shouldn't take me more than two or two and a half chapters (including this prologue/teaser), so please don't get discouraged! _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Prologue<strong>_

A thin fog rolled over the dreary, rain soaked street in one of the more suburban neighborhoods in Chicago. Stirred by a faint breeze, the fog's spectral tendrils snaked through the quiet street, slowly wrapping the rows of quiet houses into its grasp.

Most of the other residents of the neighborhood paid little mind to the mist, or to the light, steady rain shower that accompanied it, as they went about their usual morning routines. Their minds were occupied with the same thoughts that they were each morning: _Were they going to have enough time to catch breakfast before heading out to the office? Little Susie's ballet recital was this afternoon at 3:00. Where the hell were their shoes? They'd be late for work if they didn't find their shoes._

Like his neighbors, the Nostalgia Critic mostly ignored the rain. It wasn't like it was something out of the ordinary for early autumn, after all. And, like them, he went through his usual morning routine, his mind occupied with thoughts of the work that needed to be done that day.

Unlike his neighbors, however, a note of disquiet played at the back of his mind, heightening his senses with a certain restlessness and mild paranoia. For the most part, he could keep this sense of unease from forming itself into conscious thought just by keeping his mind occupied on whatever task was currently in front of him. But, no matter what he tried, he could not completely dispel this feeling. It reminded him of its existence in other ways—a tingling in the back of his neck, an imagined movement in his peripheral vision, an inescapable feeling that he was forgetting something.

Something was wrong with the world, it tried to tell him, and it wasn't going to let him rest until he figured out what it was.

But what, Critic wondered, could possibly be wrong?

In the three months that had followed since this odd feeling had first struck, he'd spent several restless nights thinking over every possible thing that could be wrong to no avail. Sure, he could think of the usual things that were wrong, but none of those had ever made him nearly as uneasy in the way that whatever this was about was.

The scent of coffee, strong but warm and inviting, pierced through his clouded senses, momentarily awakening him from his troubled daze. Without really thinking, he began to pour himself a cup. Sure, he knew that the caffeine-born alertness wouldn't help ease this unrest in his mind, but it was still better than trying to make sense of it all running on what little sleep he had managed to get.

Outside, a tree branch, animated by a sudden wind, rapped against the kitchen window. Critic, startled by this sudden noise, nearly dropped the mug of steaming hot liquid as his eyes darted toward the window.

"Jeezus," he sighed, rubbing his forehead, "It's just a tree. What the hell is wrong with me?"

He started to look away from the window, but quickly found himself drawn back to the fog that lay just beyond. For a brief instant, an image flashed in his vision, burning itself into his mind.

In his mind, the quiet gray sky had deepened into an inky blackness far darker and colder than any night he could ever recall. The steady rain and wispy fog were painted with an unearthly shade of crimson, as if the world itself were bleeding. Shapes, unidentifiable but numerous, lurked in the ruby haze, slowly advancing upon him.

And then there was noise. A loud, haunting wail, like a siren, cut through the air like a sharp knife, crying out above all other noises.

Shuddering, Critic blinked away the nightmarish hallucination. The dark sky, the blood colored fog—that wasn't real, he told himself. It was nothing more than a vivid nightmare produced from a particularly bad night's sleep. Some dreams were like that, he knew. Some dreams had a tendency to be so vivid that they stayed in your memory even after waking up, making you feel as if they really happened.

"Critic?" he heard a voice ask nervously, "Everything alright?"

Snapping from his haunted daydream, he turned to see his brother. The Other Guy looked at his younger brother with concern in his eyes. The Other Guy knew that his brother had been troubled by something for the past three months, and admittedly, he himself was feeling slightly distressed by this as well.

Hesitantly, Critic gave a second glance toward the window. The sky outside was the overcast gray that it was suppose to be, not the endless darkness that he had imagined.

"Everything's fine," he said in a tone that suggested that he might not have completely meant what he said.

The Other Guy had noticed the distracted note in Critic's voice, but decided against saying anything about it. He didn't necessarily like seeing his brother seem so bothered by something that neither of them could explain, but he knew that trying to force him to talk about it was a pointless and futile effort. It was better just to take his word for it and move on to other concerns.

"If you say so," he said, shrugging dismissively before reaching to pour himself a cup of coffee, "But, don't forget; you've still got a couple reviews to film and edit today. Plus, there's still a couple more than we need to get to work scripting."

With one last glance at the gray morning sky outside, Critic nodded, turning his attention back to reality.

_Everything's fine_, he told himself again, _it's just my imagination. Nothing's wrong._

* * *

><p>The morning sun flitted gleefully through the curtains of the little Texas apartment, falling upon the sleeping form of a brown haired young woman. The light prodded her face gently as birds outside sang a cheerful promises of a glorious day ahead.<p>

Almost as if to protest the morning's annoying chipper wake-up call, the woman let out a soft groan, twisting her body away from the sun's rays and pulling the blankets over her head, like a makeshift cocoon. But the morning was relentless as the bird's song became even more joyful, and the sunlight just a little brighter.

With an annoyed sigh, MarzGurl crawled out of bed and got dressed, admitting defeat to the aggressively merry morning. Couldn't the morning have a little sympathy for her? She wondered as she rubbed the last bit of sleep from her eyes. It was the first time in over three months that she'd been able to get more than two consecutive hours of untroubled sleep, and she had hoped to hang onto that for as long as possible.

Much like the Critic, she too had been troubled by a mysterious sense of uneasiness rising in the pit of her stomach. And, much like with the Critic, it was starting to crawl into her sleep, invading her dreams.

She too, dreamt of threatening shapes moving through a glowing, blood red mist. She too heard the shrieking cries of these otherworldly beasts. She dreamt of running for her life as these monstrous, faceless shadows drifted behind her. She didn't know what would happen if these creatures—whatever they were—caught her, but she was certain that she had no intentions of finding out.

Each time she dreamt this, she never remembered how it'd ended. All she remembered before waking up was hearing someone behind her screaming as the shadowy wraith-like creatures caught up to them. She looked over her shoulder at the captured figure as she continued to run. In her dream, she knew who this figure was, and had even shouted their name as she watched them get captured. But by morning, the name was forgotten and the figure's face appeared blurred and unrecognizable in her memory, as if they were just any other stranger in a crowd.

She hadn't told anyone about these nightmares, yet. Mostly because she feared that she would be considered crazy and that no one would believe her if she told them. Also, she felt that it'd be better to try to figure out what exactly this all meant on her own before she told anyone about it.

She'd even tried consulting dream interpretation books in an attempt to glean some sort of symbolic meaning behind the dreams, but she hadn't found any interpretations that didn't seem like complete and total nonsense to her (Of course, she thought, what was she expecting? It wasn't like anyone actually took those books very seriously, anyways).

Naturally, after the first time she had this dream, she just wrote it off as a onetime nightmare; nothing too out of the ordinary, and certainly not anything to show concern over. The second time had been freaky, but still not enough to bother her too much. It wasn't until the third or fourth time of waking up from the same nightmare with a nagging feeling that something was missing, before she started to show a little concern.

Now, here she was, possibly on her seventh run of this troubling dream in the past three months. Between the lack of restful sleep, and not being any closer to understanding the whole thing, she was starting to feel like she might just be going insane.

But something in this unexplainable restlessness that welled within her suggested that she was neither going insane, nor was this just any simple dream.

No, there was something much more to the whole thing. The restlessness and the weird dreams were definitely tied together. Whatever it meant, it was definitely trying to tell her something.

That much she could be certain about.

She sat down and turned on her computer, trying to push the strange dream out of her mind as she prepared to film another review, she decided that whatever these dreams were trying to tell her, it was probably hinting at something major brewing just beyond the horizon.

For now, she thought, the only option she had was to try to focus on her work, and try to deal with it as it came.

* * *

><p>Sleep wasn't something that came naturally to The Spoony One.<p>

Even before three months ago, he'd been prone to having nightmares that rendered him sleepless. But, the nightmares he'd been having in the past few months had all but completely turned the Arizonian into a total insomniac.

Like his fellow reviewers, he'd been plagued by the same dream, accompanied by the same terrifying feeling of uneasiness. But, unlike the others, he at least knew part of the cause of his restlessness.

Not but at least two weeks prior to the advent of these nightmares, Doctor Insano had mysteriously dropped off the face of the Earth, leaving very little traces behind.

And, it wasn't just the mad-scientist that was missing, either. His son and his entire lab had vanished along with him as well.

It shouldn't have bothered Spoony nearly as much as it did. After all, the wild-eyed mad scientist and his wacky experiments drove him crazy. He should have been happy that Insano was no longer there to bother him.

On the contrary, however, it worried him greatly. Not in the disappearance itself, so much as in the peculiar way that Insano had been acting leading up to it. Insano acting weird was nothing new—it was, after all, pretty much the only way that people knew that he could act.

But, usually the mad scientist's actions were typically flighty and over-the-top in nature—dangerously close to outright comical at some times—not the hushed, solemn, almost subdued mannerisms he had displayed.

And that made Spoony more than a little suspicious.

The few times he saw Insano outside of his lab he was like a man possessed, muttering what seemed like random numbers and meaningless statistics under his breath. He'd even found a few of Insano's notes laying around; hastily sketched equations and rough blueprint like drawings, more of a reminder of things he intended to work on than any real, finalized schematics.

But without any real context of what they were being applied to, the notes were nothing more than meaningless scribbles to the gamer

There was one thing, he remembered, that stood out as particularly strange. Scribbled on the edge of some of the notes was the word 'Nexus'. He'd also heard Insano mention this 'Nexus' thing in during some of his mumblings as well.

Now, for what felt like the hundredth time, he was going through the few meager clues the good doctor had left him, hoping in vain that he'd simply overlooked the vital clue that could tell him where Insano had vanished to, and why.

His eyes, bleary and bloodshot from the lack of sleep, ran over the complex equations written on the scraps of paper that littered his desk, trying his hardest to put himself in the mindset of the mad scientist in an attempt to figure out just what these numbers and figures could be applied to in order to make sense.

In the corner of the room, Burton hummed quietly. A faint, grayish static flickered across the blackness of the robot's diamond shaped pupil as bits of data were processed through his sensors at a rapid speed. Even with a fairly decent understanding of the mathematics involved, there were some parts of the equations that were just a little too complex and complicated for Spoony to follow without difficulty.

Because of this, he'd run the equations through Burton figuring that, if the vital missing piece to the puzzle existed, then it'd most likely lay in one of the parts that he himself was having trouble following.

"Hey, Burton," Spoony said, looking up from the notes, "I've been thinking. You think that Insano disappearing has got something to do with those really fucked up dreams I've been having? You know, like this is just part of some experiment of his or something. I mean, it'd make sense, right?"

His eye still flickering, Burton turned his head toward his sleep deprived companion.

"Based on the relatively short time span between the doctor's disappearance and the start of your re-occurring nightmare," the blue robot replied, "and based upon the history between you and the doctor, there's a high likelihood that the two events are interconnected. Of course, without any concrete evidence, it's merely just speculation."

"I knew you'd say that," Spoony sighed.

"If you knew what I was going to say," the robot replied, "then why did you ask?"

Wearily running his fingers through his dark hair, Spoony ignored Burton's sarcastic remark, instead opting to sneak a half-second glance at his watch. 6 o'clock, his watch read, inciting a low, frustrated growl to escape the man's throat.

For a moment, he couldn't help but laugh to himself as he realized that he had no idea whether the clock meant that it was six in the morning, or six at night.

Either way, Spoony yawned, he'd been up way too damn long, and probably should make some attempt at sleep lest he accidentally fall asleep while filming. If he thought that some of the fans got riled up over slight delays between reviews, he'd hate to imagine what would happen if they found out that he had to delay a review because he'd ruined most of his takes by falling asleep during it.

"We're not getting anywhere with this, Burton," Spoony said, "What do you say that we give up and call it a night— "

"—Day," Burton corrected him "The sun's currently rising."

"Whatever," the gamer rolled his eyes, "Either way, if I don't try and get some sleep soon, I'm gonna end up crazier than Insano. I'll try to get a hold of Linkara later and see if he's had any better luck at figuring this shit out."

The blue robot nodded in agreement, or rather made a movement that resembled nodding. With a faint click, he fell deathly still, his eye returning to the deep, solid black that it usually was. An eerie, almost unsettling silence fell over the room as Burton entered sleep mode, leaving Spoony all but alone in the darkness of his room.

With a sigh, he looked over toward his bed, silently praying to himself that when, and if he managed to fall asleep this time, he didn't have the same messed up dream as the other times. And if he did, he hoped that maybe this time something different would happen that would give him the answers he needed to solve this mystery for good.

* * *

><p>By the looks of things, Linkara was having just about the same luck as Spoony when it came to figuring out what his former arch-nemesis was up to.<p>

It was bad enough that what little sleep he could get was filled with freakish nightmares, he thought, but now they had to deal with Insano disappearing as well? If he wasn't used to fighting intergalactic threats and such, this might have all been a little too much for him.

Actually, he corrected himself; it wasn't just Insano that was missing. Linksano, Insano's brother, had also gone missing roughly around the same time. And, he'd heard from the Nostalgia Chick that Doctor Block and Doctor Tease had also gone M.I.A around the same time.

When that many mad scientists (although, one wasn't sure that they could count Block as a "mad scientist", she was just more frustrated than anything else) go missing at the exact same time, Linkara knew that there was more than enough reason to panic.

Where they'd gone, and what they were planning, was not something that Linkara was easily able to figure out.

"Linkara," a robotic voice said, breaking his chain of thought, "We've searched nearly every possibly planet and dimension on record, and so far there have been no signs of Doctor Insano or the other scientists."

"That's impossible," Linkara sighed heavily, "Are you sure you ran a through scan, Pollo?"

"Yes," the blue, box shaped robot replied, "I've scanned every dimension multiple times."

"They've gotta be hiding somewhere," Linkara said, "If they're hiding out in another dimension, then the scanners would be picking up some sort of anomaly, right?"

"I've already checked that. Aside from Lord Vyce's signal in that dimension we left him in, there haven't been any notable anomalies in time-space."

Linkara heaved a deep sigh of frustration, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Why was Insano always like this? Somehow, even when he was nowhere in the universe (however he'd managedto pull _that_ one off) he was still somehow able to cause trouble for the comic reviewer.

If anything, it was the complete absence of Insano and the other mad-scientists that seemed to be causing the most problems. If there had been an attack from some horrible, mutated, abomination of science or a nuclear powered death robot, or any of the mad-scientist's antics, that was one thing.

_That_ he could handle.

It was the quiet that was killing him. From experience, he knew that when things got this quiet, something really bad was bound to happen. And seeing as even Insano had decided to jump ship on the universe, it was only logical to assume that it was_ really_ bad.

Iron Liz entered, yawning as she tiredly rubbed her eyes. A soft, amused smile spread across her face as she noticed the troubled frown upon her friend and roommate's lips. Linkara shivered involuntarily at the sight of her calmness. Something was unsettling about the way she smiled, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Her smile wasn't any different than it'd been in the past, right?

"So," she said, settling down next to him, "I'm guessing you had that nightmare again?"

"Not just me," Linkara replied, "Last time I talked to Spoony, he'd said he'd been experiencing the same thing. The Critic mentioned something that seemed similar as well. And, although neither MarzGurl nor the Chick have said anything, I'm willing to be that they've been having the same dreams too. "

"Kind of makes you wonder how many other people this is happening to." Liz said, absently glancing over his shoulder at the computer screen.

Various websites for local, national, and international newspapers and news channels littered nearly every bit of free desktop space upon the screen. Intently, Linkara cycled through them, only pausing to glance at a head-line here and there.

"Not a lot, apparently," Linkara replied, "If more people were having these dreams, or if it was localized to one or two areas, then there would be some sort of reports about it somewhere. But, so far I'm not finding anything. And, nothing has been turning up in Pollo's scans, either."

"Well," Liz suggested, "Maybe it's just a coincidence. Not everything is part of some weird alien plot to take over the world, you know?"

Given that a lot of unusual events in his recent life had some sort of supernatural or extraterrestrial hand in them, Linkara felt he should protest. However, he chose to say nothing. He couldn't deny that he had his doubts; maybe he and the others were trying to find something in nothing.

"Maybe you're right," he said reluctantly, "Maybe I'm just freaking out over nothing. But, I dunno…something seems a little too off about everything for it just to be coincidence."

For a moment, Linkara could have sworn that he caught a flash of something in his roommate's expression.

"You alright?" Liz asked, noticing the troubled frown on the comic reviewer's face.

Linkara blinked, assuring himself that whatever had seen hadn't been there. Her expression hadn't bizarrely flickered like a candle into something eerie and unsettling. She had always been smiling, and there was _nothing_ unsettling about that.

"Y-yeah," he replied, "I guess I'm just a little more tired than I thought."

Iron Liz's smile spread to a grin as she stood up, giving the comic reviewer a quick pat on the shoulder.

"Hey," Liz said, "I've got the day off today, so I'm thinking about making pancakes or something for breakfast. You want any?"

Again, Linkara observed the RPG reviewer's face, watching for any strange or unusual flashes to occur, thus confirming whether or not he was just seeing things.

However, this time, nothing occurred to betray any hidden emotions that may have been lying underneath that smile.

"Y-yeah," he replied, rubbing his eyes "Sure. I'll be there in a minute. I just need to finish up some stuff here."

"Take your time" Liz said, as she started to leave, "I'm pretty sure that I can take care of fixing breakfast on my own. That is, if 90s Kid hasn't decided the refrigerator needed to be more badass."

Linkara smiled as he watched Liz disappear behind the doorway. He had to have just been hallucinating. Everything was as it had always been, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>The Nostalgia Chick had managed to do something that her fellow reviewers had been unable to: She managed to not become troubled by her nightmares.<p>

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly easy for her to ignore these nightmares, or the nagging sense of dread that usually followed. But, she had other things in her life that demanded her full attention, and therefore she couldn't allow herself very long to devote to figuring it out.

However, there were a few moments whenever the thoughts slipped through the cracks into her conscious thoughts. Moments when it felt like she was in one of those episodes of the _Twilight Zone_, where some guy just stops by someplace that seems like any other American small town on the surface, but is really hiding some dark secret, like everyone in the town are really aliens or something. Except here, it felt more like the entire world had established some elaborate ruse to conceal its secret.

If that were the case, she wondered, then what secret could the entire Earth possibly be hiding? And, for that matter, if the entire population of Earth (minus herself) were in on this secret, then what exactly was the point of keeping one, then?

So logically, she came to the conclusion that it was just her imagination acting up from spending too many nights sifting through old _Twilight Zone_ episodes while looking for the right clips to help illustrate a comparison to the thematic elements of the movie she was reviewing.

She sat there in the coffee shop, half-listening to a lady with a very thick Brooklyn accent complain to barista about how she should be fired because she'd messed up her order. The clerk kept silent, but the furrow in her brow silently said that she might not have gotten it wrong had the lady not changed her order at least six different times in the span of two minutes.

Normally, this was the type of thing that was so normal for a place like this, that it wouldn't register on Chick's radar, but the lady was making such a scene, that it was starting to disturb her thoughts.

As she cast a quick, annoyed glare across the table, something caught her eye, diverting her attention away from the loud woman and her rant. A group of people sat at a table, just to the left of the counter. All of them were clad in strange nearly identical costumes that looked more like something that one would find as monster foot-solider characters in a fantasy LARP than a New York City coffee house at 8:30 in the morning.

All of them, except one, wore very thick, paper-white body make-up that made them almost seem like mannequins. But, most bizarre was the face-masks that they wore. Like the body make-up, these too were white as snow, broken only by a thick stripe of color running down the center of their face. How these people didn't suffocate was a question Chick wondered. There were no visible eye, ear, nose, or mouth holes anywhere to be seen, yet this didn't seem to bother the costumed people, who continued to go about their normal business.

The other member of the group (the one that the Chick assumed must have been their leader), was dressed in an equally bizarre fashion, preferring to hide his features under a dark, heavy hooded robe. His face, much like his companions, was covered. But, unlike them, he wore an metal face mask, designed with a slightly dragonish appearance to it.

However, as it seemed, everyone was going about their normal business, as if these weirdly cloaked people were not anything slightly unusual. Not a single person even did a double take as they passed by them.

"Hey, Nella," Chick asked, nudging the curly-haired woman sitting next to her, "Is there a convention in town that I wasn't aware of or something?"

"No," Nella replied slowly, "If there was, I'm pretty sure I would have been going to it. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Chick said with a slight air of sarcasm "Just there's a group of freaky cosplayers over there, and all."

At the mention of cosplay, Nella's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Excitedly, she began to peer around the room, praying that the cosplayers in question were of the _Doctor Who_ variety. But, to no avail was she able to spot anyone who might have looked like a cosplayer.

"Where?" she asked, "I don't see them.."

"What do you mean, 'where'?" Chick asked, exasperated, "Over there by the counter. The guys in the white masks and wearing a shit-ton of body paint."

Again, Nella looked, her eyes directed toward the table that her friend indicated. The Chick noticed her friend's eyebrows quirk skeptically as she looked back between her and the table of cosplayers.

"Are you trying to pull a prank on me?" Nella asked, "All I see is some guys in suits!"

"What? No!" Chick replied, "Would I _ever_ try to trick you?"

Nella's skeptical look now became a look of silent challenge regarding her friend's statement.

"Okay, okay!" Chick admitted, "Yeah, I _would_ try to trick you. But I swear to god that I'm being completely serious! I swear that they're right-"

Her words trailed off uncertainly as she glanced back at the table. Nella was right: The group she had seen sitting at that table had been replaced with a group of middle-aged looking men and women wearing very plain business suits, certainly not anything out of place in the cafe. It couldn't have been possible that the group had simply left, she thought, as that she had only looked away for a second—hardly enough time for a group that noticeable to get up and leave.

"Are you feeling okay?" Nella asked, noticing her friend's perplexed expression.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." Chick stammered, "But, I-I swore that I saw…but now they're not. But I was certain that…"

The round-faced young woman squeezed the Chick's shoulder sympathetically, calming the befuddled reviewer down.

"It's okay, Chick," Nella said, "You're probably just a bit tired. You did stay up pretty late last night working on that script."

The dark-haired reviewer nodded slowly, trying to force her eyes to look away from the group at the table as she took another drink of coffee. She tried to redirect her thoughts towards more useful things to think about. However, much like curious kitten, her thoughts strayed away, constantly drawing themselves back toward the suspicious group.

A nagging, uncomfortable feeling scratched at the back of her mind, leaving thin claw marks of paranoia behind. There was no way, the feeling told her, like all the other times this had happened, that it was just a trick. It had to have been real. Or if it wasn't real, then reality itself had just become unusually dreamlike.

"I've been having this really weird feeling lately."Chick said, breaking the silence that had built between her and her friend.

Nella quirked her eyebrows, staring at her usually cynical best friend with a manner that suggested that she was both curious and slightly concerned.

"What do you mean?" she asked

"I dunno," Chick sighed, "Kinda like the world isn't exactly real or something."

"A lot of people have that feeling," Nella replied, "It's actually kind of normal, I'd say."

"It's a bit more complicated than that, really. You know in a DNA strand, how removing one small part of it and replacing it with another can completely change the damn thing into something completely different? It's kind of like that; except it's more like reality itself was messed with. Except I don't know what's changed, or why."

"Hmm…" Nella said, "That is a bit weird, but probably not anything too screwed up. Probably nothing to worry about. Unless, of course it starts getting worse or something, then you might want to start worrying."

Again, Chick nodded, exchanging a brief, reassuring smile with her long-time sidekick. However, even in spite of the assurance that things were probably just fine, she couldn't quite shake this crawling feeling in the back of her neck that the suspicious group had been eavesdropping on for some reason.

Every time she looked over at them, one or two of them would hastily avert their eyes, pretending to be busy with something. She had managed to catch one of them, though, staring at her with a piercing hawk-like gaze, before trying to pretend to be intensely focused upon finding his phone.

Of course, she assumed, it had to be nothing more than coincidence. Maybe they were glaring at her because they were in the middle of preparing for a meeting and she was accidentally interrupting them by being a bit too loud, or something. After all, since the dispute between the clerk and the irate customer had been settled, the café had grown pretty quiet.

Once more, she returned her attention back to the coffee cup in her hand, frowning with momentary displeasure when she found that only a droplet of lukewarm, bitter liquid kissed her lips in place of the steaming hot type she desired.

_Well_, she thought, shrugging, _I guess that mean's I should probably get going_, _now._

"Hey, Nella," she said as she got up to leave, "I've got a few errands I have to run downtown. You want to come with me?"

"Sorry," the curly haired woman replied, following her out the door "I've got some stuff I need to get done today on the other side of town. But, I'll meet up with you later to finish filming that review, okay?"

"Sure," Chick agreed, before watching her friend disappear into the slowly growing morning crowd.

Once she was alone, she couldn't help but notice the feeling of a pair of eyes focused upon the back of her head, watching her with great interest. Her brain switched into defensive mode as she turned around, her hand reaching for the small canister of pepper-spray she usually kept concealed within her purse.

Once more her eyes met the suspicious man from earlier, and once more he hastily averted his gaze to focus on something nearby that had suddenly caught his interest. Frowning, Chick lowered her defensiveness, withdrawing her hand from her purse. However, she couldn't help but feel as if something were up.

This group, whoever they were, seemed to be watching her for some reason, as if they were waiting for her to do something—or rather, making sure that she _didn't_ do something.

"This is stupid," Chick mumbled under her breath, looking away from the group, "It's probably just my imagination or something. Nothing is wrong."

Finally, she put the small coffee shop, and the strange events that had transpired there, behind her, disappearing into the crowd, completely unaware that the eyes of that strange group still followed her.

The group watched as the Nostalgia Chick disappeared into the crowd. The instant that she was gone from their sights, a shrill ringing of a cellphone broke the silence. The other members of the group shifted their gaze between their leader and the space where the female reviewer had previously been.

They were like wolves that had caught scent of their prey, and now waited for the right moment to strike. A heavy pause hung over the group like a raincloud as they waited, listening for their commander's voice to echo through the phone.

"_Report,"_ a cold, growling voice commanded

"The captive shows signs of awareness." The leader of the group said, his eyes darting toward the spot where the Nostalgia Chick had formerly stood, "Reports from the others suggest that the others may be showing some signs of awareness as well."

"_Damn."_ The voice swore, "_They can't be made aware."_

"Forgive me for asking this, m'lord," the man said, "But, even if they are aware, wouldn't it be impossible for them to escape?"

"_Perhaps,"_ the voice said, "_But, it's only a matter of time before the good doctor and his team picks up on their energy signals and makes some sort of rescue attempt. We can't take that risk."_

"You're orders, my lord?" the man asked.

_"Continue to keep them under strict surveillance for the time being."_

"…And if the doctor and his team try to contact them?"

"_Eliminate them."_


	2. Chapter 1: Nexus Part I

_Disclaimer/Author's Notes: See Prologue for Disclaimer. Also, I apologize for this chapter taking quite some time to get finished. I ended up having to get a new laptop after my old one accidentally died on me. Unfortunately, since I was unable to transfer my old files over to my new computer because of this, I had to completely re-write everything I had on this chapter, as I've explained to a couple of people.)_

_**Chapter 1:** **Nexus (Part I)**_

A faint clicking echoed through the large room, magnified by the numerous structures of metal, plastic and concrete that decorated the space. The sound, erratic but still seeming purposeful blended into a rhythmic, but off key song with the synthesized bleeping and humming of the numerous computers and screens that dotted the walls of the small room.

This tuneless melody was nothing new to be heard playing within the confines of Doctor Insano's laboratory, especially when he was working. At that moment, however, the clacking of keys had almost become frantic, speaking above all other sounds at the moment, as the shaggy-haired mad scientist typed with the same fervor that a writer has when struck with a sudden inspiration.

A troubled frown overcame his expression as his fingers flew over the keypad in a dance he had become all too familiar with, especially during the past few months. With each new command he input, the image on the thin, holographic screen shifted and gave way to another set of graphs and charts, and with that, Insano's frown grew just slightly deeper.

"Huh," Insano mused aloud, as he stared at the monitor through his spiral-lensed goggles, with a clearly puzzled expression, "Five anomalous Sub-neuro energy patterns coming from the same dimension? Well, that's…new."

In the three months he and the other mad scientists had been monitoring these anomalies, they'd only come across one notably strong reading. For them to suddenly have located five, and all in the same dimension no less, was more than little troubling to him.

A soft rush of air emitted from the metal door along side wall as it slid open. A tall, seductive woman in a lab-coat entered through the door. A rather strange looking man with thick glasses and a wig in a color that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be hot pink or neon orange scurried behind her, stumbling as he tried to match his long legged companion's hastened stride.

However, another physical presence in the room did little to disrupt the mad scientist, who continued to study the readings on the screen.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyes not once turning to see just who his new guests were.

"Insano," the woman said, "We've picked up an unusual energy signal coming from the Earth dimension."

"Of course you did, you nit-witted fool," Insano replied dully, rolling his eyes behind his goggles, "We've been monitoring it all morning. Seriously, sometimes I wonder why I decided not to create a squad of nuclear powered mecha-rabbits to assist me."

"Not that energy reading." The orange haired man said in a noticeably thick German accent "Another one. Several faint distortions and anomalous energy patterns have been detected within range of the energy patterns we picked up earlier. We think that the enemy might be planning to eliminate the targets before we make contact with them."

"Hah," Insano smirked, "Damn magic-using imbecile; thinks he can try to outsmart me. Just because we don't have magic and don't have psychic abilities, he thinks that we're not paying attention. Oh yes, just you wait. We will find a way around your little minions. And, one day I'll complete my psycho-kinetic enhancement machine, and show him the powers of SCIENCE!"

"You know," the woman said, absently playing with a strand of her blond hair, "Maybe we if we could figure out a way to capture him. I mean, I hear he's kind of cute. Just the kind of man I'd like to... 'experiment' with."

The orange haired man sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. There they went again with the dazed looks on their faces, he sighed. What did that make, six times in the last three months that they'd been distracted like this? Loudly he cleared his throat in an attempt to re-align his companions train's of thought.

"Excuse me," he said, "But, now isn't the time to be daydreaming. Don't you think we should probably be doing something?"

"Oh, um…yes." Insano replied, his face flushing a faint shade of pink "Yes, it would be dangerous if we don't do

something soon."

"But," the blonde said, "We can't go for the direct approach. After all, the last time we tried the direct approach…."

The blonde's words trailed off uncomfortably, as their eyes became clouded with a far-away distant look once more. However, this look was not one that denoted a relapse into the previous distractions. Rather, this one was more mournful and downcast, much more suited for the heavy silence that weighed upon them, painfully reminding them of something they would have much rather have forgotten.

Insano's gaze drifted toward the wall opposite of him. More specifically, his gaze became fixed upon the six large glass tubes that lined almost three-fourths of the wall's length. Each tube were lit with a colored-coded light and were just large enough for an individual to stand in, but little else. Five of the tubes housed a pedestal that held a strange looking device upon it.

Like a lost traveler, his thoughts once more returned to the five energy readings he had been studying. It couldn't have just been a coincidence that there would just happen to be same number of devices available as there were energy readings. Could it be that they had found five candidates to put these inventions to use? Could it be that this was their chance to finally do more than just play the role of silent observers?

Involuntarily, his gaze drifted just slightly over to the sixth tube. This room was much like its companions in that it also held a transparent, glass-like pedestal within it. But, unlike the other pedestals, this one stood forlorn and empty. Like a magic spell, this emptiness drew Insano's attention to it. He felt like a reader who'd stumbled upon a particularly unusual typo within a story. At first, his per-occupied mind could easily overlook it, but once his wandering gaze caught it, it became almost impossible for him to be unaware of its presence.

That void stared at him with wide, hauntingly blank eyes. It wasn't the kind of emptiness that drove men mad (or in the case of Insano, even madder than he was). It didn't need to; all it needed to do was silently remind them of their past mistakes. Their memories and thoughts would torment them far past the point of normal insanity on their own.

_Be careful_, the silence seemed to warn him,_ you remember what happened the last time you tried the direct approach, right? You were careless, remember? You don't want that to happen again, do you? No? I didn't think so._

But, how were they supposed to get into enemy territory undetected? They'd have to be nearly invisible, like a single electron being viewed by the unaided eye, for them to even have a chance. Without warning, an idea flashed into his mind, rekindling the manic grin that spread across his lips like wildfire.

His two companions, caught off guard by the mad-scientists, merely stared on, unsure of how to accurately interpret this sudden resurgence of manic energy that flowed through the doctor as he rapidly began to type.

"Professor Celluloid," Insano said to the orange haired man, "Get to the teleporter, run a scan of all trans-dimensional rifts near the anomalies. Be prepared to activate them when I give the signal. Doctor Tease, head to the infirmary and be prepared to start a full medical scan on the targets after they arrive. I'm willing to bet that they're brains'll still be magnafluxed by whatever spell that wizard had them under."

Without a word, the orange haired man disappeared through the door. The blonde scientist, however, continued to stare at him with a quizzical look written clearly on her sharp face.

"Insano," she asked, "I don't mean to be rude, but what are you doing?"

"It's likely to bet that those energy readings" Doctor Insano explained, although he spoke as if he were talking to himself, "have been coming from our little reviewer friends."

"…Naturally," Doctor Tease agreed, "After all, we established that much given the history between them and our enemy, and given that they seemed the primary targets in the attack three months ago. But, I still don't understand where you're going with this."

"If were lucky," Insano continued, "That idiot magician left that dust buster and that blue box Spoony and Linkara call robot pals in this dimension as well. I'm not too familiar with Pollo's systems, but I might at least be able to hack into Burton's network and relay a distress call through him to the others."

"You do realize," she asked, "The amount of sheer chance this plan is hinging on, right? If there's even one mis-step, or one thing out of place…."

"…The plan fails, we'll be located, and everyone will die," Insano finished, giving her a hard, but understanding look "And that's just if we're lucky. I know the risks. But, we don't have any other options at the moment."

Doctor Tease sighed as the loud clacking of keys filled the air once more. Doctor Insano had once more returned to the seemingly never ending duel between the complex networks of data known as Burton's programming. With each line of data that flashed on the screen, he came one step closer to breaking through a layer of encryption. And, as each layer peeled away, another, more complicated layer would appear to replace it.

Eventually, however, there would come a point where the blue-robot's internal systems could no longer produce a properly convoluted distraction, and would eventually allow the mad-scientist to take control temporarily.

"I hope you know what you're doing…" Doctor Tease said, her voice laced with concern, as she cast one last look at her dark-haired colleague before disappearing through the door.

"…You and me both," Insano mumbled to himself, as his fingers glided over the final line of code.

* * *

><p>Linkara let out a low, frustrated growl as he cycled once more through another set of news articles. Still nothing new, he sighed, as he closed out of the browsers and proceeded to shut down his computer.<p>

There was never anything new in this mystery, nor would there ever be any new leads in this mystery.

Without really realizing it, Linkara's thoughts drifted once more to what Iron Liz had said. Maybe this was all just a coincidence, he thought. Maybe the only reason he'd even saw it as possibly being some conspiracy was due to spending far too many years of his life facing off against both Insano and whatever increasingly bizarre intergalactic menace decided to drop by his house on their way to conquering the multiverse.

Or, maybe he was just paranoid.

But, another part of his mind argued, how could this be anything but a conspiracy? The dreams, Insano and the others' disappearances, the vague, nagging feeling that something important was missing from his memory? Everything fit together too perfectly. But, at the same time, nothing was fitting together at all.

He felt like a child playing 'make believe' with his friends on the playground. Every time he felt like he was starting to get a step closer to solving the mystery, something would attempt to counter whatever progress he made by bringing up something that either didn't correlate perfectly with the rest of his theory, or managed to completely negate it to the point that it was almost all the comic reviewer could do to keep himself from throwing his hands up in defeat and search for a bottle of aspirin.

A soft movement from outside the door broke him from his trance, reminding him that he had other, more mundane and ordinary tasks that needed his attention. The comic reviewer's stomach growled, irritably trying to get him to stray his focus away from the current thoughts plaguing his mind.

He'd think about this later, he decided as he reluctantly began to pull himself out of his chair. Figuring out the motives of a mad scientist came second in the face of obtaining breakfast.

As he stood, he caught a red-light flashing in his peripheral vision. Pollo's single red eye was blinking as the robot hovered across the small room toward the comic reviewer.

"Linkara," Pollo said, "You have an incoming message."

That's probably Spoony trying to get a hold of him, Linkara thought. For a brief moment, the bespectacled young man couldn't help hold his breath and pray that Spoony was calling because he and Burton had actually discovered something new on this case.

But, once more the other voice in his subconscious felt the need to express a dissenting opinion on the matter. It didn't seem likely that there was anything new was going to happen—especially not after three months of scrounging for clues like a college student searching for loose change for laundry, with little results but speculation.

"Pollo," Linkara replied, "Patch the transmission through."

With only a brief beep, the blue robot's singular eye began to glow with a steady ruby light. Much to Linkara's confusion, it was not Spoony's voice that spoke through the robot's voice transmitters. The voice that did speak, however, was familiar enough to freeze the comic reviewer's blood cold.

"Doctor Insano?"

Why, after three months of being near invisible, had Insano just now decided to show up again? And more importantly, why—out of all the people in the universe he could have contacted—did he decide to contact his former arch-nemesis?

"_Hello?"_ Insano's shrill voice, distorted by static, said, "_Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me? If you can hear me—I know that you've probably noticed something peculiar lately; a reoccurring dream that you can't explain, perhaps? I can't explain everything right now, but that's not important. What's important is that you're in serious danger. They know that you're starting to become aware of their game, and it'll only be a matter of time before they find you. And, believe me; you don't want to be around when that happens…"_

The message continued, explaining something about finding a wormhole, and once more re-iterating that it was important for them to hurry. Once the transmission had ended, a heavy, ringing silence hung over the room, as Linkara tried to make sense of what he'd just heard.

He knew better than to dismiss this as a prank. After all, he knew Insano well enough to know that he never usually sounded this legitimately panicked about something, unless something were seriously wrong. Besides, he added, Insano might have been crazy, but he wasn't exactly entirely secretive when it came to attempting to destroy Linkara and the others.

But who, he wondered, were the "they" that the mad-scientist had mentioned, and why were 'they' after them? Yes, the message had something about 'being aware of their game', but what exactly did that mean?

The door creaked open, scattering his thoughts to the four winds, as Iron Liz peeked her head into the room, seemingly oblivious to her roommate's pensive stare.

"Hey," she said, "Do you know where we put the pancake mix? I can't seem to find it anywhere."

"Actually," he replied, "We might want to hold off on breakfast right now. I just got a message from Doctor Insano. It was kind of weird, really. He was saying that we were in danger or something."

Linkara started to move toward the door, but stopped when he noticed Liz remained standing still, her arms folded across her chest as a cat-like grin began to spread across her lips.

"Liz?"

Liz however only laughed in response. Her laugh, cold, mocking and so unlike the RPG reviewer's usual laugh, sent an involuntary chill down Linkara's spine.

"I had heard that the scientists were crazy," Liz said "But I didn't think that they were also stupid enough to actually risk putting you in danger with that stunt. Did they honestly think that we wouldn't be prepared for something like this, especially after last time?"

"What are you talking about?" Linkara asked.

Liz's eyes met his in a sharp, threatening gaze, freezing Linkara in place as if he were looking into the eyes of Medusa. For a moment, he could have sworn that the eyes that stared at him were not the eyes of his roommate and trusted alley. These eyes were too golden in hue, and far too cat-like to have possibly belonged to her.

"You and your friends just couldn't be content pretending that everything was alright, could you?" She growled,"No, you had to start noticing tiny flaws in our carefully crafted illusion. You had to let them know you were here. It's a real pity too; you were going to die slowly and painlessly. But now, it looks like I've got to kill you myself."

Suddenly, as if a light had turned on, something clicked into place in Linkara's mind. How could he have not realized it sooner? He wondered. His subconscious had practically been screaming at him about it during the past three months. The way she smiled at him, the faint trace of unnerving sinisterness that played upon her lips, it all made sense now.

"You're not really Liz," Linkara asked, "Are you?"

The Iron Liz imposter grinned slyly, revealing a pair of sharp fangs curving just below her now full, ruby red lips. Involuntarily, the comic reviewer found himself taking a few steps back as the air around the imposter shimmered like waves of heat rising off hot concrete.

Her golden, curly hair lightened into a snowy white as it began to grow straighter and shorter. Her usual dark T-shirt and jeans wavered for a moment as they morphed into a somewhat revealing black and white leather bodysuit. Her body began to transform as well, becoming more of a strange hybrid between a cat and a human, emphasized greatly by the appearance of a pair of two black cat-like ears perched atop the woman's head.

For a moment, Linkara could not do anything but stare in shock at the sudden transformation. However, this was only temporary, as his voice quickly returned to him.

"Well this is odd," he commented, "I mean, I would have thought you being part cat, and me being allergic to cats, I would have picked up on this sooner. So yeah, props to you, cat-lady; you did manage to fool me. "

"Thank you," the cat-woman replied, "Kind of sad that I have to destroy you; you seem like such a sweet kid. Foolish, but sweet."

The cat woman's gloved fingertips began to glow with several pinpoints of silver light as she folded her arms across her chest. As she uncurled her fingers, ten long claw like metal blades shot from her fingertips with such speed that the air itself seemed to whistle in admiration as it was sliced in half.

Sensing danger, Pollo charged at the cat-woman, in an attempt to knock her off balance. Her eyes still fixed on Linkara, she unfolded her arms, casually side-arming the blue box shaped robot, throwing him hard against the wall.

"Pollo!" Linkara cried out as his robot companion's body toppled to the floor in a sparking heap, his red eye flickering dully as his systems struggled to stay online.

Linkara knew that he needed to stall for time. This woman, whoever or whatever she was, she clearly wanted him dead. And, if the ability to summon metal claws like she was some sort of magic using version of Wolverine (or Lady Deathstrike, if one were to go just slightly more obscure but more gender accurate), and slamming Pollo into the wall in one hit meant anything, she probably could kill him seven times over before he even realized he'd stopped breathing.

He needed some back up. But who? Harvey had left for a singing gig in Detroit and wouldn't be back for another couple of days. Nineties' Kid and Ninja Style Dancer-they popped up too unpredictably as it was. Who knew where they went to when they weren't around, much less how to get a hold of them?

Nimue might be of some help, but as it was right then, it'd be a bit difficult to activate her without the cat-woman noticing.

So, instead, he decided for the next best option. Keep her talking until he could at least manage to get some back up weapons.

"Who are you?" he asked, slowly starting to inch his way toward his bedroom's closet, "What have you done with Liz?"

"Don't worry about her," the cat-woman said, "She's somewhere safe, for now. Now, quit stalling, please. I promise that it'll stop hurting after you're dead."

Growling, the leather clad cat-woman pounced at Linkara, slashing at him with her razor-like claws. Luckily, Linkara threw himself out of the way of her attack, but not quickly enough that she didn't manage to lay some damage upon him.

Grunting, he clutched his chest with one hand as he picked himself off of the floor. The front of his t-shirt had been slashed open in the attack, and a few thin, angry, bleeding cuts stung the bare skin that lay beneath. Thankfully nothing that couldn't be fixed with some bandages later, he sighed.

So much for Plan A.

"Nimue!" Linkara shouted, hoping to contact the Hal-9000 looking robot, "Activate the Self Defense systems. Emergency Procedure Level Three. We're in trouble here!"

A wave of panic rose in the pit of Linkara's stomach when, instead of hearing the calm, authoritative female voice saying 'affirmative', his ears were only met with the sound of silence.

"Nimue…" he repeated again, his voice sounding overly strained in a futile attempt to sound calmer than he actually felt. Once more he narrowly dodged another fierce attack from the cat-woman's razor claws.

Again, only silence, save the frantic pounding of his heart in his ears, and the high, mocking laughter of his attacker. Not taking his eyes off of his feline-esque attacker, he reached into his coat pocket, feeling around blindly for the magic gun.

"Silly human," she said, "Did you think that I didn't know you had an arsenal at your disposal, or that I wouldn't already thought of spells to cut off access to both your weapons and your spaceship? Do you really think that I wanted to do this the hard way?"

The comic reviewer grinned internally as his fingers closed around the smooth wooden hilt of the gun. Apparently, in her attempt to seal off his access to his arsenal, she'd overlooked the most important and powerful weapon he had in his possession.

"Actually," he smirked, "I was kind of thinking that you did want to make things difficult."

The cat-woman's eyes widened as Linkara withdrew the enchanted flintlock pistol from his coat, firing a few, electric-like blasts of energy at his attacker. The catwoman, having no time to brace herself for the onslaught of magical energy hurled at her, was thrown off of her feet as it collided with the center of her chest.

The second and third blasts, following almost immediately after the first, took advantage of her off balance state to send her spiraling a few feet back, sending her crashing into the bookshelf behind her.

His gun still raised, he cautiously approached the spot where the white-haired cat woman had collapsed. Faintly, the smell of singed leather wafted faintly in the air carried by a wispy trail of smoke, making the comic reviewer to wrinkle his nose slightly in disgust.

The first thought that ran through his head was: did I kill her? Holding his breath, he silently prayed that that wasn't the case. Sure, she might have been trying to kill _him_, but that wasn't what _he'd _set out to do by fighting her. He was only hoping to incapacitate her long enough to escape.

He breathed a low sigh of relief as he drew close enough to observe her breathing. She was still breathing; unconscious, a bit beat up and burnt in places, but still alive. With that concern squared away, he allowed the next thought in his mental queue of concerns to take its place.

"Pollo?" Linkara asked tentatively as he walked over to the blue robot, examining the extent of the damage done by the cat-woman's attack, "Are you alright?"

Weakly, the robot's eye flickered with a dull red light. Mentally, Linkara made a note to have Doctor Linksano help him repair Pollo once as soon as he found the wormhole and got out of there.

That was assuming that Linksano was with Insano, wherever they were, and that this wasn't another elaborate trap or something.

"I'm alright," Pollo replied, "There's extensive damage to my outer frame-work, and I'm only functioning at sixty-three percent normal capacity. But, my major functions are still operational."

"Thank god," Linkara sighed, scooping the robot up in a quick hug, "Listen, let's get out of here before she starts to come around again."

"…I'm detecting a spatial distortion coming from inside the hall closet."

"That must be where the wormhole Insano mentioned." Linkara said, rising to his feet, "Let's go."

"Wait..." Pollo said, "What about Nimue?"

Linkara paused, mentally face-palming himself for such an obvious oversight. That's right, he reminded himself as he walked over towards where the small, artificial-intelligence unit.

Quickly, a thin beam of ruby light shot from Pollo's eye, quickly scanning over Nimue's form. In response, a faint red glow, like an ember of a dying coal, emitted from Nimue's own sensory device, before disappearing just as quickly as it appeared.

"What's Nimue's status?" Linkara asked

"I believe that the woman posing as Liz managed to disable or override most of Nimue's voice-activated functions," Pollo explained, "By the looks of things, rather recently."

"Nimue must have noticed something was wrong," Linkara guessed, "And that cat-lady probably disabled her before she could alert anyone."

If the blue box shaped robot had been capable of more complex forms of movement, he would have shrugged his shoulders. It could be true, but at the moment, he couldn't be certain of anything.

A defeated sigh escaped his lips has he shifted Pollo in his arms, attempting, with some difficulty, to balance both AI units in his arms. He hated the idea of his former arch-nemesis and his colleagues learning too much about either Pollo or Nimue's inner workings.

Linksano, he could somewhat trust not to exploit what knowledge he gained about the two robots and use it against Linkara, or at least twist it to suit his own purposes

The others? Not so much.

But, he also was aware that he didn't have any other options available at the moment. Getting Nimue operational again, as well as repairing the Pollo's damages would take time that the comic reviewer simply could not spare at the moment. Any minute, the cat-woman would regain consciousness, and would likely be ready for round two.

If one thing was for certain, Linkara planned to be long gone before that could happen.

Cautiously, he cast one last glance toward his attacker to make sure she hadn't woken up while his back was turned.

"You know," he said to himself, "You'd think that between fighting Mechakara, Lord Vyce, and the Entity, I'd be used to this kind of thing by now."

* * *

><p>Like a frightened rabbit trying to escape a hungry wolf, the Nostalgia Chick sprinted down the crowded sidewalk, zigzagging and darting in an attempt to shake her pursuers in the swarm of moving bodies.<p>

Her feet, fueled by overwhelming amounts of paranoia-born adrenaline, moved of their own accord as she made her way past the crowds of people, too wrapped up in their own daily routines to pay any mind to her.

Why had she decided to leave her car in the parking garage three blocks from here? She wondered, silently cursing to herself as she felt the back of her legs begin to ache slightly, unused to moving at such a rapid pace.

"'You should park your car half a mile away' you say," she mumbled bitterly to herself, "'The exercise will do you good' you say. Yeah? Well, you're sure getting the exercise, alright. Hope you're happy 'bout that."

Cautiously, she turned her head to catch a small glimpse of her perceived pursuers. No-one was behind her, she tried to convince herself. Nobody was trying to follow her. Everything was how it should have been.

Several people in business suits and casual clothing milled about as they tried to get to other places that held more interest to them. A few construction workers, their clothes not yet dusty from work, exited the nearby bakery with a box of doughnuts, while the owner of the bakery stood outside trying to hang a sign regarding a sale on yesterday's unsold bread, all the while chatting with a man in a white apron whom Chick guessed was probably the owner of the deli next door.

She tensed as she caught sight of one of the dark suited figures standing in the crowd. She recognized him: he was the same suspicious hawk-eyed guy from the café that she could have sworn was staring at her.

Her heart beat faster as she saw his sharp eyes looking in her direction. For a brief second, she looked in the opposite direction, praying that he had overlooked her, or was looking at someone else nearby.

When she looked back in his direction, she found herself blinking in confusion. Not but two seconds ago, she could have sworn he was there. But now, he was no-where to be seen. Instead, another man—a younger man in far more casual attire—stood in the hawk-eyed man's place.

"…Maybe just my imagination," she sighed, as she turned around again, returning to her long trek back to her car.

Suddenly, she heard a muffled tune echoing from somewhere near her side. She paused, fishing her cellphone out of her purse. However, as she started to examine the number, her brows knitted into a look of puzzlement.

The number, she noticed, looked vaguely like it could have been Spoony's phone number, if she squinted and tilted her head to one side. The number itself appeared to be glitched and scrambled to the point that she wondered if perhaps the phone's display had been damaged in some way.

Shrugging, she answered the phone, only to hear Doctor Insano's voice echoing through the speaker. As she listened to the mad-scientist's urgent plea, she couldn't help but feel the hairs on the back of her neck prick up uncomfortably.

It was as if not one, but several pairs of ears were listening in on this phone-call with great interest, as if they could magically hear the other end of the conversation.

No sooner had the call ended, did Chick turn around, shooting another glance behind her. Now, the young man she had earlier somehow confused with the hawk-eyed man stood frozen, staring at her with hawk-like golden eyes.

The same eyes of the man from earlier.

But, it was not only him who seemed to have taken an unusual interest in the brown-haired woman. Several people near the man, had stopped dead in their tracks, and were now staring at her. Unlike the young man, their eyes were not sharp and focused directly upon her, but rather were glazed over and unfocused, as if in a trance.

Almost immediately, the man and the hypnotized group broke out into a run toward the Nostalgia Chick. With a small, frightened yelp, she too started running, carelessly pushing confused bystanders aside in a desperate attempt to put as much distance between her and the group as possible.

She wasn't sure where she was going, as she started turning down alleys, hoping that that might be able to lose them. Insano had said something about looking for a wormhole, right? She thought to herself as she cut across another street. Sure, it sounded easy when she didn't think about it.

But that was the problem—she was thinking about it. And what her thoughts were telling her was that, even if this wasn't some elaborate prank, how was she supposed to know where there was a dimensional portal located in the city? And if she did find it, how was she supposed to know what it looked like, anyways?"

_You can worry about finding wormholes and whatever later,_ another part of her mind told her, _Right now, what's important is that you've got a bunch of possessed freaks who may or may not want to kill you and probably do whatever other sick things they might be thinking of, and you need to get as far away from as fast as you can._

By the time she had found herself reaching the wall of the, underground parking garage, she was out of breath and panting. Her legs felt heavy, as if they had suddenly been replaced with two huge chunks of lead, forcing her to have to struggle in order to keep herself from collapsing on the ground. The bitter taste of bile strung at her throat as she coughed, trying to calm herself down.

The tight knot of paranoia, however, had not yet untied itself from the pit of her stomach. Sure, she might have managed to lose them, but her problems still weren't over yet.

She had no idea just how far behind she had managed to lose them. And, in the event that they did find her here, she'd accidentally driven herself into a dead end.

Her heart stopped as a faint pounding of footsteps echoed through the concrete cavern, steadily growing louder with each passing second. Slowly, she turned to face the source of the noise.

The figure of the young man and his dead-eyed companions emerged from the shadows into a small pool of florescent light. While normally the hazy light of the parking only just barely illuminated ones surroundings, it now seemed as if it were designed specifically to emphasize this man's sharp, almost inhuman eyes.

Chick watched, caught somewhere between confusion and fear, as the man descended into the shadow between pools of dingy fluorescent light. Something shifted within those shadows, but it was too dark for Chick to realize what it was.

That was, until her pursuer stepped into the next pool of light. Now, he was no longer the young man that she had seen not but seconds ago. Instead, it seemed as if he were once more replaced with the hawk-eyed business man from before. A few of his cronies had changed too, morphing into the same dark-suited individuals that had been with him in the café.

Cautiously, the female reviewer took a few steps back as the man drew closer, disappearing once more between the shadows. Upon re-emerging into dim light a second time, he had transformed once more. This time, the dull light glimmered off of the silver dragon-like mask he wore atop his reptilian face. She could hear the soft creaking of his leather armor as he continued to come closer to her. She could almost feel her skin crawl as she heard a sword (she assumed he must have summoned it while shape shifting) scratching across the concrete.

Likewise, his followers had also shed their disguises, now adopting the faceless white masks and armor that she distinctly remembered seeing at the café earlier that morning.

"So," the hawk-eyed man said, "You thought you could escape so easily? I do have to admit, that was pretty clever thinking, trying to lose us in those alleys and all."

"Listen," Chick snarked, trying to sound more confident and unafraid than she felt, "What do you want, exactly? You want a date? Are you trying to sell me car insurance? Look, either way I'm not interested. And, I'm probably less interested now that you and your goons tried to chase me down like that."

The hawk eyed man's laughed echoed menacingly off of the concrete walls, sending involuntary chills up Chick's spine. Shaking, she raised her fists, hoping that that her small gesture of bravado could fool her into actually believing that she was not nearly as panicked as she felt at the moment.

However, this only caused the hawk-eyed man to laugh harder, freezing her blood even colder than she thought was possible.

"Oh, that's cute," the hawk-eyed man mocked, "You really think you can take all of us on at once? You're clever and you've got guts, human. I hate that."

Smirking, he ran his fingertips gently along the blade of his sword. A manic glint sparkled in his golden eyes as he stared at her. It was the kind of look that one could only describe as a typical slasher-movie villain smile.

"Okay," Chick said, "So, you're gonna try to kill me. Fine, whatever—but did you really need all these other faceless creeps here? I mean what? Are you too afraid to handle a grown woman by yourself? Gotta have your buddies nearby to make you feel tougher?"

She knew, just by the faint traces of an angry scowl that twitching at the corner of his lips, it probably wasn't a good idea to keep provoking him like that. But, at that moment, it was the only thing keeping her even half-way calm.

She flinched as they took another few steps forward, closing the gap between her and themselves. Even if she were a professionally trained martial artist, there was no way that she could take them all on at once. There were just too many of them.

She screamed silently as she imagined the feel of their breath against her skin, assuming that the faceless creatures needed to breathe. She imagined the soft crunching sound of her bones being snapped into pieces by these creatures' hands. She could almost smell the coppery scent of her own blood as she imagined the man's silver blade piercing into her heart.

She couldn't run. Only a vast expanse of dirty gray concrete lay behind her. There was no escape from these crazed psychos.

She was finished.

_C'mon! _She thought to herself, her heart racing, _I could really use a freaking miracle right about now!  
><em>

Something glimmered in the corners of her peripheral vision, growing brighter by the second. Her attackers, evidently bewildered by this unnatural light, stopped suddenly. The hawk-eyed man's (the only of the group capable of expressing emotion) countenance was twisting in a strange mix of anger, confusion and disgust that, had she not been feeling so panicked at the moment, Chick would have probably found somewhat comical.

Suddenly, a gust of wind, like a tornado shot from the growing light. Dust and discarded trash whipped around the Nostalgia Chick's shoes as she dug her feet into the ground, avoiding being picked up by the wind that now roared loudly like a lion's call in her ears.

Her attackers, still somewhat dazed, did not have the chance to brace themselves for the gust of hurricane force winds, and quickly found themselves knocked back, toppling into an undignified pile of bodies on the floor of the before her.

Once the wind had quieted, and the light had dimmed to a less blinding intensity, Chick spun around to see what it was that had so conveniently saved her from certain doom.

A swirling circular portal of light, roughly twice the size of Chick herself in both height and width, emerged from the dingy gray concrete wall like a door. She assumed that this was probably the wormhole or whatever that Insano had mentioned in his phone call.

From behind her, she heard the groaning and grumblings of the hawk-eyed as he and his cohorts tried to untangle themselves from each other. Without really thinking, Chick barreled toward the portal, running faster than she could ever recall running in her life.

Her heart raced, pounding wildly in her chest as she leaped, allowing herself to get picked up into a powerful current of air from within the portal.

Sure, she had no idea where it might have actually led to, but at that moment, the brunette really couldn't have cared less. As far as she was concerned, anywhere was better than being where she was, getting assaulted by what appeared to be the members of the strangest, most confusing LARP she could ever even dream of.

With a flash, the portal winked out of existence, leaving only a dimly lit parking garage and a crowd of befuddled and aggravated costumed people behind.

* * *

><p>The Nostalgia Critic yawned as he got up to turn off his camera. He smiled to himself as he thought over the review he had just finished. He wasn't exactly sure how the fans were going to react to him doing a review of <em>Turbo: A Power Rangers Movie<em>, especially when they knew that he wasn't too much of a fan of the Power Rangers series in the first place.

That was more of Linkara's field of expertise as opposed to his. He'd always preferred the _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ more as a kid, anyways.

But, he continued to grin as he sat down at his computer; he figured that, he'd managed to come up with enough jokes that the audience would probably enjoy it.

Sure, he'd be expecting a call from Douchey McNitpick a few hours after the video went up, complaining about some small error. But, by this point, this had become so routine that it no longer bothered him. He was just glad that the movie didn't feature any cooking ware (neither the fans nor Douchey were ever going to let him live down his unfortunate mix-up over pots and pans.)

However, he thought, now wasn't the time concern himself with working on the review. He'd get around to editing things later. For now, he tried to concern himself with sorting through the stack of e-mails that cluttered his inbox.

Probably a bunch of fan-mail, the usual angry hate-mail and the usual healthy dose of spam mail from some non-existent Nigerian prince who wanted to give part of his money to a complete stranger.

And indeed, he noticed upon opening his inbox, he did find the usual assortment of e-mails. However, perched atop the list was one particular e-mail that stood out amongst the others, beckoning for his immediate attention.

Naturally, he recognized the address—it did, after all, belong to a fellow reviewer—but the subject line was a bit garbled, making it a bit difficult to comprehend perfectly.

Sometimes Critic wondered why Spoony and Linkara had thought it was a good idea to link their communications through their robot pals. Okay admittedly, he could see the purpose of it, in the event of an emergency or something. But, still—the idea of letting a sentient robot having access to both your phone and e-mail seemed too strange to him. What if one of the bots was feeling mischievous and decided to start spamming people?

He knew that he should have been skeptical of any e-mail that looked like it needed a decoder to read. After all, he'd just spent who knew how many hours recovering from a rather nasty virus on his computer a few months back. There was no way he was going to be willing to go through that again anytime soon.

Still, he reasoned, even if the e-mail looked a little weird, it was still from Spoony. Both Spoony and Burton may have been had a bit of a prankish streak to them, but he figured they, being fellow reviewers, wouldn't have liked having something like that happen to them, so he figured that they'd have enough respect not to pull something like that.

Against his better judgment, Critic opened the e-mail. Where he had been expecting a message reading something along the lines of a wall of garbled text, or at the very least a rick-roll, he was surprised to see that there was none. However, instead, his eyes were only met with a blank message.

Had Spoony been trying to send a message, but hit "send" before it was completed? Was this just a prank? What was this?

Whatever it was, it didn't matter, Critic thought as he rolled his eyes. Lazily, he slumped back in his chair and guided his mouse cursor toward the 'back' button.

If it was just a joke, then he didn't have the time or the patience to deal with it at the moment. He had other things that needed to get done today, after all.

His mouse cursor hovered above the 'back' button, intending to click on it, when suddenly the Critic's monitor filled with static. Critic scowled as he heard the roar of the static crinkling through his computer's speakers.

What kind of prank was this? He wondered. If this in any way had just released a virus onto his computer, then he was definitely going to have to have a few words with his fellow reviewer about this later. And by a 'few words', he meant berate him for a few minutes and then punch him in the face.

As quickly as his anger had flared up within him, it quickly evaporated, now replaced with confusion as he heard a voice echo through the static. Like the other reviewers, he immediately recognized the voice as being Doctor Insano's.

Again, Critic couldn't be sure if this were just some really bizarre and senseless prank that the gamer was playing on him. He knew that Spoony could do a pretty dead-on impression of Insano, when he wanted to.

But at the same time, there was something so slight, so subtle in their voices that set the gamer apart from his mad scientist doppelganger (although, to be honest, no-one could really figure out what exactly the two's relationship was with each other) that Critic knew this was, in fact, Doctor Insano actually speaking.

Confused and wary, the Critic listened on, unaware that at the exact same moment he had opened the e-mail, no less than twelve of his neighbors had stopped dead in their homes; their expressions blank as they stood frozen as statues. It was as if they could almost hear the mad scientist's ramblings from beyond the confines of the Critic's home. Or at the very least, they were aware that something unusual was happening in the home of their neighbor at that very moment.

Like an army of ants, they descended from their own houses, gathering upon the doorstep of the necktie wearing critic. Two of them exchanged a brief, glassy-eyed nod with one another as they knocked on the door.

Inside, the Critic was still not sure what to make of what had just happened. He may have been quite certain that it was indeed Insano, but he was still unsure about whether anything he had just heard was true or not.

Wormholes? Someone out to kill him because he had "become aware"? This was all starting to sound like something out of a bad sci-fi action film. This was the type of stuff that he made fun of, not stuff he typically got himself involved in.

And yet, something in the back of his mind itched upon the mention of a 'dream', as the beast of a paranoia he could not explain clawed at him, desperate to be released. Once more flashes of the ink-black sky and the crimson rain filled his vision. Once more the siren wail filled his ears with its shrill, haunting cries.

And all at once, it stopped, replaced by a loud, hollow knocking. The Other Guy had suddenly appeared in the room, leaving the Critic to wonder exactly how deep into his flashback induced dream-world had he been not to see his older brother walk in.

"Hey," The Other Guy asked, "You haven't been running down the street screaming like a lunatic again, have you?"

"No," Critic replied, "Not in the past couple of weeks. Why?"

"Oh no reason," The Other Guy said, airily, "It's just that some of the neighbors decided to pay us a visit. All at the same time. _Again_."

The younger man rolled his eyes as he got up and followed his brother out of the room. Seriously, why did it bother them so much if he did something wacky every once in a while? It wasn't like he was hurting anyone or anything. Besides, it's not like he complained when_ they_ did something that was kind of annoying.

Still, if he'd done something that had truly upset them, then he at least would have liked an explanation as to why they decided to wait so long to launch a complaint about it.

Surely, the rational side of his brain reasoned as he opened the door, they had some good reason for waiting.

A polite smile, the type one often uses for situations in which they don't particularly enjoy being in, but know that being rude would only make matters worse, as he looked at the group standing at his doorstep.

"Hello, neighbors" he said, feigning civility, "What brings you…"

His words were cut off as one of the neighbor's fists collided with his stomach, doubling him over in pain.

"Ow! What the hell?" he shouted, his eyes widening in surprise.

Their faces still expressionless, the mob struck him again, this time throwing him onto the floor. The Other Guy, having witnessed this entire scene, stared at his neighbors with a bewildered look as he pulled the Critic away from another barrage of attacks.

"You okay?" The Other Guy asked.

"I'm fine," Critic nodded as he dusted himself off and readjusted his glasses, "What the hell is up with these guys?"

"Whatever it is," The Other Guy replied, "You must have seriously pissed them off this time. I don't think I've ever seen them want to actually_ kill_ you like this before…"

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Critic snarked, "But, I swear that I didn't do anything this time. These guys are just-"

He fell silent as he and his brother dodged out of the way of as the hypnotized group stormed into the house. He shuddered as he noticed the blank, lifeless expressions on their faces. For a moment, he thought back to Insano's message. Perhaps his neighbors were secretly part of whatever group it was that was out to kill him for some reason. Or at the very least, they had some sort powers of mind-control over them.

Three deafening cracks rang through the air of the living room as he withdrew his pistol from his coat, firing three shots into the wall behind his attackers. The bullets had only come close to actually hitting anyone, but that was what he had intended in the first place. If they were being mind controlled, then he'd hoped that the sound of gunshots would have been loud enough to wake them from their trance.

However, he could not consider his actions to be to no avail. While it hadn't had the expected results, the gunshots had been somewhat effective. The figures of his neighbors began to flicker like a candle, changing into something alien yet vaguely familiar to the critic.

"So, they're really some faceless monsters posing as humans?" The Other Guy commented with dull surprise. "What a twist."

"Seriously?" Critic asked, "Is this really the time to be mocking M. Night Shamanylan? In case you haven't noticed. these guys want to bash our brains in like melons."

"Yeah, I noticed," The Other Guy replied, "Any idea who these guys might be? You know, 'cause I usually prefer knowing the names of the guys trying to beat me up."

A deep, troubled frown overtook the Critic's countenance as he closed his eyes, trying to search through his memories of where he'd seen these creatures before. Only flashes of blurred images and distant sounds danced underneath his eyelids. Each time he thought he could catch it, it would slip through his fingertips like sand, leaving him back where he started.

"Damn it," he sighed, opening his eyes, "I swear, I _know_ I've seen them somewhere before."

The Other Guy had no time to reply, as that the creatures that had earlier posed as his neighbors charged at them again, striking them with the force of a brick being hurled at their faces.

"We need to get out of here," Critic said, as he fired a few more shots, this time not bothering to avoid hitting anyone. One of the faceless figures recoiled as the bullet struck them. Almost immediately, however, it recovered, seemingly undamaged, as it charged at him, its hands extending like claws as it tried to wrap his hands around the reviewer's throat.

"..And you call me Captain Obvious?" The Other Guy smirked as wrestled with one of the faceless attackers, slamming them against the coffee table before elbowing another one in the gut.

Critic would have rolled his eyes at his brother's snarky comeback, but instead decided to fill him in on the details of the message he had gotten earlier. He knew that it probably sounded crazy, but at the moment they didn't have any other choice but to believe it. After all, it couldn't have been any crazier than being attacked by a bunch of masked men posing as their neighbors.

"So…" The Other Guy asked, "Where are we supposed to find this 'wormhole' or 'portal' or whatever it is?"

Before the Critic could answer, the two caught a flash of bright light coming from just up the stairs. The two exchanged a knowing glance with each other as they fought their way toward the staircase.

The two's spirits lifted as they saw the portal at the far end of the hallway; its glow warm and inviting, as if it were beckoning them towards it. They were close, now, Critic thought, as he felt a cool wind kissing his cheek.

Only a few steps more…

His elation shattered as he heard a scream and a loud thud from behind him. His heart stopped beating as he quickly looked behind him. The faceless creatures had tackled The Other Guy. He groaned as he struggled to get to his feet. But, it was a futile effort, for they had practically pinned him to the ground with the weight of their bodies.

Critic's eyes were blazing with an angry fire as he blindly began firing toward the creatures. There was no way in hell, Critic thought, that he was just going to stand by and let these creeps mess with anyone in his family like that. His vision blurred with red as the rapid fire of bullets rang in his ears. Unfortunately, much too quickly for his liking, the gunfire quieted, replaced with a more hollow clicking sound.

And yet, the creatures seemed to be completely unphased, as if the bullets had been nothing more than wads of paper being thrown at them. He should have figured that it wouldn't do any good, he cursed bitterly to himself. After all, it wasn't like it'd worked the last time he shot at one of them, either.

The reviewer froze as panic set in, sending a stream of thoughts rushing through his brain all at once. What was he going to do? It wasn't like he could just distract them. They were far too smart for that. Besides, he knew that even if he did manage to distract them, they'd just be focused on killing him, instead.

Behind him, the portal still glowed. This time, the pulsing light seemed almost impatient to him, as if it were waiting for him to make up his mind. He could still make it out of this mess.

No, he shook his head furiously, scolding himself for even considering something so cowardly. He should have felt ashamed for even thinking about running at a time like this, he thought. He was a jerk, but not so much of one that he'd leave his own brother in the hands of a bloodthirsty mob to save his own miserable skin.

Anyone else, maybe. His brother, though? Not on a bet.

"C-Critic….." The Other Guy gasped for air as one of the creature's wrapped their arm around his neck, "…r-run…"

"Damn it," Critic said, his voice shaking, "I'm not leaving you here!"

"Don't worry about me…" The Other Guy said, his words strained as he futilely struggled against the creatures ever-tightening grip, "I'm not the one they want. I'll be fine."

Still, the reviewer hesitated, torn between his two options. His eyes stung as he tried to hold back hot, angry tears. His heart beat too rapidly in his chest that one may have wondered if he might end up fainting.

"Rob…" He tried to speak, only to find his words coming out as a dry, rasping whisper.

"..Doug…" The Other Guy pleaded, giving his younger brother a look that said _Just trust me. Don't argue._

Once more he tried to make another desperate attempt to shake the attacking creatures off of him. But, the creatures merely tightened their grip on him in response. The Critic stood there, trembling as he watched on. Each time he heard his brother cry out in pain, it was like a punch to the soul.

He hated himself—hated that he was standing there helplessly as these freaks hurt his brother. He hated that he knew that, even if he were able to do something, it still wouldn't do any good. He hated that he couldn't protest as his brother was telling him to flee for his life.

"T-the portal…" The Other Guy said, his voice sounding like a strained hiss as he struggled to stay conscious "…Go…save y-yourself…"

The portal, becoming increasingly impatient, started to glow violently as it slowly started to shrink into nothingness. He knew that if he didn't make his choice now, there may not be another chance.

Biting his lip, the Nostalgia Critic nodded, giving one last fearful, reluctant glance back at his brother before stepping through the portal. Almost instantly, the portal's light blinded him to his surroundings as it pulled him in. Closing his eyes against the light, he let the deafening roar of wind around him wash over him like waves from the ocean, drowning his memories in a sea of white noise.

He didn't know how long this serenity would last, leaving to face the cold, harsh light of reality. But for now, it didn't matter. Right then, he didn't want to remember anything that had just happened.

* * *

><p>When the reviewers regained consciousness, they were clearly no longer in the same places they had been before stepping into the portal.<p>

The first thing that they noticed was the distinct, bitter smell of iodine piercing hanging strongly in the air, making them involuntarily making them wince as they subconsciously recalled that one childhood injury being painfully treated with iodine (or some similar chemical) that every one seemingly has.

Upon opening their eyes, they noticed that they were lying on cots in some sort of room that seemed highly reminiscent of a medical doctors' office. However, at the same time, the various slim and high-tech looking monitors and devices seemed to give it the appearance of a futuristic alien space ship as well.

"Oh good," a soft-spoken voice chirped from across the room, "You're awake."

Blinking, the reviewers turned to see a woman dressed in the type of nurse outfit that one usually sees as a Halloween costume or as a cosplay. Her waves of light brown hair swayed with each high-heeled step she took toward the them.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, "Better, I hope. You've been out cold for at least two days now. Doctor Tease was worried that the transport was a bit too much for you, given you're not quite accustomed to multidimensional travel."

_Two days?_ Critic's eyes widened as he tried to stand, only to find a tremble quake through his body, forcing him to settle upon simply sitting up. Bitterly, his memory flooded with the sight of his brother being held down by a swarm of faceless masked creatures. Had it really been only two days since then?

He started to open his mouth to say something, only to find himself being cut off by a familiar voice echoing from the bed beside him.

"Wait a minute…." The Nostalgia Chick said, "Did you say Doctor Tease?"

"Yes," the woman replied, "She brought you here after you arrived. She helped run a few exams on you to make sure that you weren't under any severe magical influence."

"Magical Influence…?" another familiar voice, this one belonging to a reasonably confused MarzGurl, spoke, "What are you talking about? Where are we?"

The nurse started to open her mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off as the door behind her slid open. The orange-haired mad scientist entered. At his feet, a spiky pink orb-shaped creature bounced impatiently, as if urging his human companion to walk faster.

The creature, known as Insano's son (or SOI, as most people called him), let out a cheerful squeak as it spotted the reviewers, his excitement no longer able to be contained within his tiny, spherical body. He practically flew across the room, throwing himself into Spoony's arms.

"Hey there," Spoony said, giving the creature a hug as he tried to calm down the hysterically cooing ball that quivered in his arms, "Aww…I missed you too, little guy."

Once the creature had calmed down, the gamer looked up at the other new figure in the room. Like the others, he knew that this orange-haired man was most definitely not Doctor Insano, nor was he any of the other mad-scientists that been missing for over three months. Who he was, however, was not a question that they could answer easily. They thought they recognized his face, but at the same time, it was as if they'd never seen him before in their lives.

The orange-haired scientist was aware of five sets of eyes staring at him in confusion, causing him to twitch just slightly under their gaze. Under his breath, he prayed that they wouldn't ask him who he was. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have minded such a question.

But, these were not normal circumstances, he reminded himself. And, answering even a simple question such as that one would only lead to even more questions, many of which he wasn't entirely sure that he could explain on his own.

"Hello, Professor," the nurse said, "What brings you here?"

"How are the patients?" the professor asked.

"The scans that Doctor Tease and I ran on them turned up no signs of magical influence," she replied, "Outside of the expected ones."

"So, they aren't being controlled," Celluloid said, "That's a relief. How are they physically?"

"The trip through the portal took a lot out of them," the nurse replied, "But I was able to repair their physical wounds by at least ninety-seven percent. The rest they've acquired during the past two days brought them up to being at least ninety-eight point nine percent."

"Wait a minute," MarzGurl interrupted, looking at the nurse as a thought crossed her mind. The way that the nurse talked, while it seemed human enough upon first listen, there was something slightly off about it.

"I don't mean to sound rude," MarzGurl continued, "But are you a robot or something? I mean, who exactly talks like that?"

The nurse, however, did not appear offended, as a soft giggle escaped her lips.

"Yes and no," she replied, "I am this lab's Nanotech Unit Recovery Systems Engine. However, you can call me 'Nurse'. I'm currently appearing as a humanoid holographic interface in order to make communications between you and myself a little easier."

"So, you're Doctor Insano's Nurse?" Linkara asked, exchanging a glance with Spoony, as if to ask him for clarification. The gamer only gave a half-hearted shrug in response.

It was strange, the two had to admit. In all the years that they had dealt with Insano, they had almost never once ever actually met Insano's nurse in person. And yet, here they were, face-to-face with her.

"I always kind of thought you looked a little…different," Spoony said slowly, trying to figure out just the words to say that wouldn't make him sound a bit too much like a jerk.

The hologram blinked, tilting her head in an expression that indicated that she clearly did not fully understand what the dark-haired gamer meant.

"I-I just meant," Spoony stammered nervously "I always pictured you as a bit older looking…and with different hair."

"Does my appearance upset you?" she asked "I could alter my appearance, if that would help…"

"N-no, no" Spoony replied hurriedly, "That's okay. You don't have to do that."

The Nurse frowned, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the gamer's reaction. However, she quickly decided that it was unimportant, and returned her attention to the orange-haired mad scientist.

"Anyways," she said, "I'm assuming that Doctor Insano and Doctor Tease sent you to check up on the patients. I speculate that the intercom's still having that glitch? Am I correct?"

"Yeah," the professor said, running a hand through his hair, "We've been meaning to fix it, just as soon as we figure out what's causing it. Anyways, the doctors wanted me to see if the patients are able enough to leave the lab."

"Of course they are," The Nurse said, flashing another smile toward the group.

She fell silent for a brief moment as if she were listening to a voice that only she could hear, before once more looking at the orange-haired professor.

"Professor," she said, "I hope that you don't mind showing them around the base. My sensors just picked up a small emergency down in the recharge station. Nimue's voice parameters seem to be glitched, and she's swearing and yelling in Russian right now. I better try to see if I can at least calm her down."

With a brief wave, the nurse's body flickered and faded, leaving the orange-haired mad scientist alone with the five reviewers. Without Nurse there to draw attention away from him, the professor could suddenly feel their gaze bearing down upon him with the intensity of a thousand laser beams.

They demanded an explanation for everything that had happened in the past three months. And, though they might not have known who he was, he was the only one who could give them the answers they wanted.

_Patience_, he wanted to tell them,_ you'll find out everything soon enough._ _But, are you sure that you really want to know?_

"F-follow me," he stuttered, as he lead them towards the door.

The reviewers exchanged uncertain glances with one another, silently debating whether or not they should trust this man that looked like a mix between a clown and a bad nerd stereotype. However, they nodded, silently agreeing with each other that they would follow him.

If he, whoever he may be, was indeed working with Insano and the other mad-scientists, then they should at least follow him. Besides, they reasoned, he didn't look like he could do much harm to them by himself.

The professor led them down a series of twisting, winding hallways. The reviewers felt like awestruck children as they allowed themselves to take in the impressive machines and contraptions of science that lay just beyond some of the open doors along the corridor.

There was much here that clearly indicated "mad-scientist's super-secret advanced laboratory", but there was also something in the somewhat soft lighting and the appearance of some colors that were not metallic silver and white, that gave off the distinct air of comfort and familiarity that unconsciously the reviewers were reminded of the homes that they had left behind.

Would they ever be able to go back home? They wondered to themselves, as their wonderment faded into a downcast melancholy. Surely, they're friends and family would be worried about them.

What would they say when they noticed they'd just vanished without leaving a note (Or in Spoony's case, a very hastily scrawled note that simply read _Take care of Oreo_)?

And, assuming they were allowed to go home, how were they going to explain this?

'_Oh, sorry I've been missing for over 2 days. I just got attacked by a group of surrealist mimes, before escaping through a portal into some laboratory in the middle of who knows where'_?

Yeah, they laughed bitterly,_ that_ wouldn't earn them a one-way ticket to the mental hospital at all.

Finally, they reached what they could only describe as the nucleus of the base. It was a large room, lined with computer terminals and other technical gadgets that the reviewers couldn't even begin to identify the purpose of. Unlike many of the rooms that they had passed, there was nothing about this room that suggested any sort of comfort; only business.

SOI seemed almost out of place amongst the aura of seriousness that radiated from every square inch of this room as he wriggled out of Spoony's arms and bounced toward his father, who was seated in front of one of the panels, absorbed in his work.

"Riki!" the creature squeaked as it bounced in front of its father with the same impatience that a young child shows when trying to get their parent to look at their latest finger-painted masterpiece, "Riki-tee!"

"Yes?" Insano asked, looking up from his work as he translated his son's noises, "You mean they're awake now?"

The little creature nodded, his tendrils waving as he did so. Insano's lips were curved into a stern, humorless frown as he turned greet the reviewers.

Almost as easily as someone flipping a switch, the air began to crackle with tense electricity as Linkara and Doctor Insano's gazes met.

"Doctor Insano," Linkara growled, his voice having the same hard edge to match his soul-piercing icy glare. Involuntarily, the comic reviewer's hands clenched into fists as he tried to keep himself from reaching for his gun.

To be honest, Linkara didn't even really know why seemed as furious as he was. He only meant to demand an explanation, not to sound angry. After all, Insano had pretty much saved him and the others from certain doom. But still, he couldn't help but feel almost comforted by the familiar twinge of annoyance he was feeling under his skin at the sight of his former arch-nemesis.

The mad-scientist, however, only rolled his eyes, ignoring Linkara's sharp glare.

"Oh, cut the dramatics, comic-boy," Insano snapped, "There's no point to it, here. I saved your life, you know, the least you could do is say 'thank you'. Or did they make you forget your manners, too?"

Linkara's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists tighter, ready to punch Insano's silly goggles off of his smirking face. Hastily, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets to keep himself from flying at him. Hurting Insano wouldn't do them any good in trying to figure out what was going on.

"Listen, Insano," Critic said, trying his best to sound reasonable, "We're not really sure what's going on here, right now. You on the other hand, seem to know more than we do. And, after last couple days that we've had, we'd _really _like some answers. So, if you don't mind, could you please just tell us what in the hell is going on?"

Insano sighed, nervously tapping his fingertips against each other, wishing that he hadn't decided to bring them into the lab so soon. He should have at least waited until he could have figured out an easier way to explain why they barely remembered something that would otherwise be unforgettable.

Absently, his eyes drifted once more toward the five devices in the display cabinets. No more stalling, he told himself, he'd have to be direct, and not worry if it confused them or not.

"I have a question for you," Insano began, "What do you remember of your little quest to find Malachite's Hand?"

The reviewers looked at each other, trying to rack their brains over what they could recall. They thought they remembered it clearly, yet it all seemed strangely fuzzy to them. They could remember themselves, they said, dressing in costumes to find the magic gauntlet.

They remembered Ma-Ti fighting the wizard Malachite, using the ring that used to belong to some ancient technologist named Aeon. They remembered Ma-Ti destroying Malachite, at the unfortunate cost of his own life.

"So," Insano mumbled to himself, "They still remember Malachite. This might be less complicated than I thought."

Of course they remembered Malachite, Critic thought to himself. Involuntarily, a dark scowl came over his lips, as his fingertips trembled with suppressed rage. How could he _not _remember Malachite? How could he_ not_ remember the man who'd practically murdered his closest friend?

"Unfortunately," Insano continued, "Malachite was not killed in that explosion, like you said. It seems that the blast that was created from the two opposing energy forces merely opened a temporary rift in the time-space continuum, transporting him to another dimension."

Now Doctor Tease had stepped in to speak.

"However, not but a short time after that," she said, "We began to pick up an anomaly traveling through the multiverse. At first we thought that it was simply Lord Vyce or some similar dimensional traveler. However, our scans indicated that Malachite had managed to escape from whatever dimension he'd been stuck in."

"During the time he escaped," Insano continued, "he somehow managed to conquer entire dimensions, and had been building up an army. We figured that your dimension would be next on his list, so we set to work developing a top-secret weapon to help fight Malachite and his newly built armies."

Now it was Professor Celluloid's turn to join in on the conversation.

"So, Insano contacted every other mad-scientist he knew," he said, "And we decided to set up base in a pocket-dimension that we knew would be difficult for Malachite's forces to detect, in order to help develop this project. Unfortunately, before the project could reach completion, Malachite's forces attacked Earth, capturing you and your fellow reviewers,"

The Nostalgia Chick held up her hands, stopping the orange haired mad scientist before he could continue. It wasn't that she didn't think this was simply impossible. After everything that'd lead her where she was at this point, she wasn't going to be too unwilling to believe in something like that. It was just that something was nagging her that she couldn't quite figure out.

"Wait," she asked, "If Malachite captured us, how come we don't remember it?"

"Memory alteration," Insano replied, "After he attacked your dimension, he altered your memories of the past, as well and the others. Luckily, it seems that we were able to interfere enough that he couldn't completely alter your memories."

"So, part of our subconscious still remembered the attack?" Spoony guessed, "That would explain the nightmares we've been having."

"…And why they had some of their minions stationed around us." Linkara added, "To make sure that we didn't figure it out ourselves."

"Precisely," Doctor Tease replied, "However, while we say that we might have been able to prevent him from altering everything in your subconcious, there were still parts that he managed to rewrite. Answer this for me; do you remember Professor Celluloid, here?"

She waved her hand toward the orange-haired professor that had led them into the room. Celluloid gave a timid wave as every set of eyes in the room fell upon him at once. Uncertainly, the reviewers shook their heads, not sure if they should have recognized him or not.

"Natural response," Insano said, "After all, even we have to admit that he's fairly forgettable. But that's probably not why his name doesn't sound familiar. You see, he was associated with a fellow reviewer of yours named Film Brain. During the attack, many of your fellow contributors were kidnapped and imprisoned in alternate dimensions—"

"—Either as a way to keep you from possibly banding together to stop him later," Professor Celluloid added, "Or as some sort of poetic revenge for being trapped in an alternate dimension himself."

"We figure," Doctor Tease continued, "That Malachite probably altered their minds, like he did yours, to make it less likely for them realize that they weren't in their own dimension. Unfortunately, that's what's been making it difficult to track them down."

"Okay," MarzGurl said, crossing her arms, clearly still doubtful, "This all sort of makes sense, I guess. But, why would Malachite risk dying just to do that? Doesn't using magic typically drain some of your life force?"

"Without something to channel it through: yes," Doctor Tease said, "Which is why were assuming that he probably found some sort of external source to sustain his powers. That or he's been siphoning off the life-forces of his captives. Or possibly both. What he's planning beyond that, we're not sure."

"…Trying to take over the world?" Spoony guessed, rhetorically.

"Of course!" MarzGurl replied, attempting to imitate a dramatic turn, but instead succeeding in causing her and the others to have to stifle a small giggle.

"But, seriously," Linkara asked once they had managed to regain their composure, "What does all this have to do with us? You didn't save us just out of the goodness of your heart."

"And who says I didn't?" Insano asked, indignantly

"…I know you, Insano." Linkara replied flatly.

"Maybe," Insano countered, "But, just because I'm _evil_, doesn't mean that I don't _care_. So what if trying to conquer the multiverse sounds like something I would try to do? That doesn't mean that I agree with his methods."

"Listen," Spoony interrupted, "I'm not saying that we aren't grateful that you guys saved us. Anything's better than a horrible, bone-crushing death. And, I'm not saying that you didn't care. But, I'm sort of with Linkara on this one. I mean, you guys clearly could have just as easily transported us to some other universe where Malachite and his guys couldn't find us. I don't think you would have risked bringing us _here_ if there wasn't something that you wanted us to help you with."

The smallest trace of a grin played on the edges of the dark-haired scientist's lips, battling with the air of graveness that he had been trying to maintain while talking to the reviewers. Nervously, he could feel his heart beating quickly like the climax of a Japanese takio drum performance.

It felt as if he had suddenly stopped breathing as debated actually telling the reviewers of their plan. In his head, it sounded like a wonderful idea.

But, that was the problem with one's own ideas, experience had taught him. One's ideas always sound perfectly logical in the context of one's own cerebral space, especially one as twisted and brilliant as his, but don't always translate well when placed in the context of another person's perceptions.

He may not have been a linguist, but he believed that the technical term was a failure between the illocutionary and perlocutionary stages of conversation.

"Remember how we said that we were developing a weapon to fight against Malachite's army?" Professor Celluloid asked, "Well, to be more specific: we created six."

The reviewers' heads turned to the five devices in the tubes behind them. The simplest way to describe the devices was that they appeared to be five wrist mounted, gray and white pocket computers roughly the width and length of a playing card.

The group exchanged bemused and puzzled glances between one another and Insano. What exactly were they to make of something like this, they wondered? Was this really the weapons that they were told about? What use were five small computers going to do? What, they wondered, were they going to Google Malachite's weakness?

However, a gleeful, child-like smile began to creep across Linkara's face as he was struck by a sudden bolt of inspiration. He'd watched enough episodes of Power Rangers to speculate what these five devices were used for, and where this was going. Curiously, he looked back at Insano, who was now visibly grinning, evidently pleased that he managed to intrigue his former arch-nemesis.

"Insano?" Linkara asked, "Did you…? Are those…?"

"Morphers?" Insano replied, "I figured you'd be the first to figure it out. These are your Nexus Morphers. They'll help you morph into Power Rangers. We've also included a cloaking device that will allow you to blend in with the dimensions you'll be traveling to."

"So," Nostalgia Chick said slowly, "You built a few morpher gizmos, and you want to assemble a group of Power Rangers or something to fight Malachite and save the multi-verse, right? That's fine and all, but why do you even need us? You already apparently already have, or had, Doctor Tease, Block, Linksano and this Professor What's-his-face guy. Why couldn't you and them use the morphers?"

"Ah," Doctor Tease answered for the other mad scientist, "That's an excellent question, Chick. You see, the quantum-transference field needed a specific type of neural wavelength to merge with in order to be converted to a wavelength conducive of activating the cloaking and metamorphosis abilities of the device."

"As it so happens," Professor Celluloid added, "The wavelength we needed matched the magical energy of the spell that Malachite used to alter your memories."

"So," MarzGurl guessed, "Even if you wanted to use the devices yourselves, you can't, because you don't have the right kind of magical influence? That's why you chose us?"

"Exactly," Professor Celluloid replied, pushing up his thick-rimmed glasses over the bridge of his nose with one hand.

Spoony, still looking at the five morphers in the tubes before them, folded his arms, pensively stroking the stubble upon his chin as he tried to run some calculations through his head. Silently, he counted over the morphers. There were five devices, he counted, one for each of them. But, he wondered as he gazed at the ominously empty sixth tube, where was the sixth one?

"Hey," Spoony asked, "I thought you said that you developed six morphers. I'm only counting five here. What's up with that?"

A heavy awkwardness hung in the air, like the nauseating scent of cheap perfume, as the three mad-scientists fell silent. The Arizonian gave a weak smile as he ran his fingers through his hair. He felt the overwhelming feeling that he'd asked the absolute most wrong question, and now wished that he could sink through the floor and disappear.

"Doctor Block and Linksano," Insano explained slowly, choosing his words carefully as not to betray his emotions, "Went on a scouting mission after we picked up another signal, roughly a month ago. They took the sixth morpher with them. However, we lost contact with them before they had tracked down source of the signal. We haven't been able to re-locate the dimension since."

Insano's expression was almost eerily sorrowful as he stood. For a moment, no trace of the cackling lunatic genius could be seen in the haggard, weary man that they saw. This was not the man who ranted about orbital death rays, or made plans to create robotic suicide squirrels. This was not the man who took joy in the idea of villainy or conquering the world with science.

Yet, that sad, melancholic air that hovered about him said more about him than an entire library's worth of words could ever accurately express. This was the man that lay underneath the thick layers of comical villainy and flightiness.

This was the somber face of a man who thought he'd lost nearly everything dear to him before, and was fighting tooth and nail in anyway he could to protect what little he still kept close to him.

"Oh come on," Insano continued, as his infectious yet familiar grin slowly crept back on his face, "You know I don't like having to beg for your help. I'd much rather just use my super-advanced Hypno-ray. But, I'm still trying to figure out how to get the lab rats to do something other than tap-dance. So, please help us? Or don't…it's not like the fate of the multiverse is at stake or anything."

The five reviewers looked at one another, uncertainly as the each weighed their options. On one hand, they reasoned, it was difficult for them to trust the mad scientists, knowing that they were each their own unique brand of dangerous and crazy.

They could only begin to imagine what could happen to them if the morphers happened to malfunction. Personally, none of them were too fond of the idea of growing extra limbs or being melted into a puddle of gelatinous protoplasm.

On the other hand, they couldn't help but admit that this wasn't something they could just walk away from. It wasn't like they could just walk home and pretend that none of this had ever happened. Not with the bloodthirsty mob waiting for them back at home.

The Nostalgia Critic ignored the whispers floating around as his fellow reviewers debated what to do. At the mere mention of Malachite's name, he'd stopped actively listening, his mind made up. His vision clouded in a crimson-tinted haze as a flood of memories carried him away from the quiet lab.

He was in a field, just outside of his house, holding Ma-Ti's body as what little life that hadn't been spent in the battle against the Malachite, slowly ebbed away from him. Critic remembered the rough feel of the scars on the dying man's hands against his cheek as Ma-Ti tried to silence the Critic's pleas for him to live. It was all too wrong, Critic remembered thinking. Ma-Ti's face was far too young to be as scarred and disfigured as it was. He was far too young to be dying.

Without warning, that memory faded, only to be replaced with a far more recent wound upon his subconscious. He tried to shake the memory of his brother being held in the iron-grip. Soon, this memory faded, only to be replaced with yet another.

His anger flared, rising to levels of disgust and rage that made even his hatred for the worst movies he'd ever seen appear more like a minor agitation in comparison. Malachite's face—that scowling, humorless face, his eyes a dark, soulless void hidden behind sunglasses.

This was all Malachite's fault, Critic thought, unconsciously clenching his fist. He'd kidnapped his friends. He'd messed with his mind against his will, erasing whatever memories he wished, basically altering his entire life over the past few years.

But, Critic's anger ran deeper than that. Malachite had killed one of his few true friends (even if Critic never really showed it). He'd sent out his goons to attack him, forcing him to leave his brother to an uncertain but most likely gruesome fate.

And, all this time Critic had been powerless to stop him. _Well, not this time_ he thought to himself as his jaw became set with grim determination, _There's no way in hell that I'm going to sit by and do nothing, again._

"I'm in." Critic said, breaking the hushed, anxious silence within the room.

Even the three mad scientists seemed mildly taken aback by the wild spark of determined rage that glimmered in Critic's round, blue eyes like a firestorm.

Critic ignored his colleagues' stunned reactions as he crossed toward the rooms toward the five tubes. Later, once his vision had cleared, and he had more time to think about his actions, would realize that he didn't quite remember sliding the tube's glass panel open and removing the computer-like device from it's cell.

The next thing he was fully aware of was fastening the pocket-computer onto his left wrist. As he felt the wrist-band snap firmly against the skin of his wrist, he flexed his arm.

The extra weight, although minimal, would take some getting used to, he thought. But, he was almost positive that it wouldn't take too long before the morpher felt like part of his own body and he wouldn't even notice it.

"Malachite's been screwing with our memories," Critic continued, his rage bubbling in the suppressed undertones of his voice, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm damn sure I'm not gonna let that trench-coat wearing Hogwarts reject get away with that."

"Critic…" Chick began, but found her words quickly trailing off incomplete.

"Listen," Critic said, "We already know that he's gone after our friends once. He's actually _killed _people before. What's to stop him from doing something to the others he's already kidnapped? And, if he conquers the multiverse or whatever, what's to stop him from going after the rest of our friends? What's to stop him from doing something to our families?"

The bearded reviewer gave a pleading look toward his fellow reviewers. They thought of their loved ones that they'd been forced to leave behind. If Malachite was even still half-way capable of what they knew his magic could do, they could only allow their imaginations to run away from them to the most unpleasant of possibilities.

The fact that he had an army, and possibly an entire dimension, under his command didn't help quell their uneasiness.

"It doesn't matter who's trying to take over the world," Linkara said, taking one of the unclaimed morphers, "If the world's being threatened, then saving it's the only right thing to do, isn't it?"

Now, it was MarzGurl's turn to join her fellow reviewers in taking one of the morphers.

"You know," she said, "I always kind of wanted to be a Power Ranger. Or a Kamen Rider, at least. I'd be crazy not to take this chance. I mean, how often does something like this happen outside of TV?"

"I'm not too crazy about this idea," The Nostalgia Chick smirked as she too joined her three morpher wearing colleagues, "It'd be cooler if we were more like the X-Men or something. But, I'm in too, I guess. Someone's gotta be around to keep an eye on Critic. I'm the only one around here allowed to kill him."

Critic quirked a confused and skeptical eyebrow in response. Chick however, could only flash a sly mischievous smile at him, silently assuring him that she was just joking with him.

Sure, she might have tried to murder him in the past, she reasoned, but it'd only seriously been that one time, and that'd only been to become president of a micro-nation they'd conquered. She wasn't about to kill her male counterpart anytime soon.

Not when it was more fun to mess with him, anyways.

All eyes in the room now fell upon Spoony, waiting for him to make a decision. The gamer's eyes were wide, and his mouth hung agape as he shook his head. The other reviewers rolled their eyes, unable to believe that Spoony would still be so hesitant.

"Forget it, guys." He said, "There's no way I'm going to get myself dragged into another insane, hair-brained scheme again. Every time we start following Critic, it always ends with us either trying to kill each other, or running like children from some power-hungry freak that could kill us with his brain."

"Oh come on, Spoony," Critic said, "How many times has that actually happened?"

"Uh…" Spoony replied, "Like, just about every time you've dragged us into something. The fight with the Nerd, the whole Kickassia thing, that LARP Quest with the map. Look, I'm just saying that I've got enough weird people who'd love to see my guts skewered on a flaming gunblade every time I review a Final Fantasy game. And that's not even counting the angry fanboys."

"Ah," Insano reminded him, helpfully, "Don't forget about Mechakara. Well, before comic-boy blew him up. Or what about that Black Lantern version of you? Before you merged with him, of course. And the Ultimate Warrior…The Gatecleaner…Chuckles the Jester…."

"Don't remind me," Spoony rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Linkara and MarzGurl grinned at each other as the exact same thought crossed their minds. They both had known the gamer well enough to know that he could be fairly stubborn when he wanted to be. If they were going to convince him to change his mind, they were going to have to be as cunning as a fox and outwit him.

Or, failing that, go for the 'school-yard taunting' method. Sure, one could consider it a dirty tactic, but even if it didn't make him change his mind, it'd at least get him angry enough to confuse him.

"Come on, Spoony," Critic begged, "You can't be serious…"

"Eh, just forget it, Critic," the comic reviewer interrupted, giving a sly, fox-like grin "Obviously, Spoony doesn't have what it takes to be a Ranger."

"Yeah," MarzGurl teased, winking, "He just doesn't want to admit that he's too afraid to handle it."

Spoony's face flushed a deep shade of crimson as he glowered at the two reviewers. How dare they openly mock him like that? He thought, clenching his fist. They were saying he didn't have the skills necessary to be a Ranger? They were saying he was too much of a coward to help them save the world?

"I think that the four of us could save the world by ourselves," Linkara continued airily, "I mean, what with Spoony being a wuss and all…"

"Me? A wuss?" Spoony laughed, "This coming from the guy who plays games on 'normal mode' because he's too much of a coward to play it hardcore. Ha! You wouldn't last five minutes in a fight without me."

Fuming, the gamer stalked past his mocking colleagues, and picked up the final morpher. Linkara and MarzGurl gave each other a secretive high-five behind Spoony's back. The knew that they'd probably have to apologize later for pressing his buttons with such a dirty trick, but they figured that in time he might forgive them for it.

"So that means you'll do it?" Critic asked hopefully.

"Hell yeah, I'll do it." Spoony nodded, jerking his thumb toward his two still grinning colleagues as he fastened the morpher onto his left wrist, "If only to get those two chuckleheads to shut up. Can't hurt to try anything at least once, I guess. Anything after that, you guys are on your own."

With all five morphers claimed and secured onto their wrists, the reviewers turned their attention toward Insano and the other scientists. Had this been a movie, they would have felt like this would be the point where they would be standing heroically in a line while a rocking instrumental version of the theme song would start playing.

As it was, this was not the case. Yes, they were standing in line, but the soft computerized beeps and mechanical whirring made them feel that almost uncomfortable and decidedly unheroic. They felt like they should be doing something, but what that something was, they couldn't figure out.

"Um…" MarzGurl asked, "How are we supposed to activate these things? Is there some kind of voice command or something?"

"It's simple," Professor Celluloid said, "We programmed the morphers with a voice command and button combination. Just input the command 'morph' on the keypad, and say the words 'Nexus Morph, Activate'".

"But first," Doctor Tease added, "We need to bind the morphers to your neural wavelengths, to keep them from getting used by anyone other than yourselves."

The blonde haired woman waved a perfectly manicured finger toward a circular button at the top of the keypad, indicating that they were to press that button.

A high-pitched hum of energy rang through the metal room as the devices lit up. Shockwaves of blazing light coursed through the reviewer's bodies, gathering up inside the glowing device. They closed their eyes as the energy burned in their veins like liquid fire, growing hotter and more out of control with each new wave.

Images flashed through their heads. Once more they could hear the haunting siren wail in their ears, crying above the screams of panic. The rank stench of death and decay, carried by an icy coldness, filled their lungs making them gag as it's invisible claws wrapped around their throats. They could feel the icy crimson rain stinging against their skin as it splashed from the endless black sky.

They remembered running from the shadowy figures chasing after them, just like in their dreams. However, this time, the figures were not the shadowy, undefined shapes that they always saw in their dreams, but now were more clearly the masked drones that they now knew had belonged to Malachite.

And, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped, and the reviewers opened their eyes. Everything was exactly as it had been whenever they'd closed their eyes. At the same time, nothing was the same.

Now, the memories that had quickly faded into a foggy haze before now remained as clear in their minds as if it had all happened rather recently. Now, the orange-haired mad scientist no longer appeared to be a stranger. They knew who he was, and who he usually hung around, even if they never recalled actually meeting him prior to being summoned here.

The morphers too, had changed. The gray parts of the morphers now filled with colored light that seemed to be pulsing faintly, as if in time with the reviewer's heartbeats.

Curiously, the Nostalgia Critic lifted the morpher near his face, examining the light. Although the light was beginning to fade and solidify, it still glowed with a fierce, angry red hue, as if reflecting the same fury that the reviewer was know to display when confronted with the worst movies in existence.

Next to him, MarzGurl's morpher glowed with a cool, soothing blue light, almost contrasting the flame-red of his new Ranger powers. Spoony's morpher had taken on a yellow, almost golden tone that seemed to remind the reviewer of the arid desert lands the gamer dwelled in. Linkara's morpher had chosen to adopt a cool but bright green shade, reminiscent of sunlight filtering in through a forest.

"Oh, of _course_ I'd end up with pink," Nostalgia Chick grumbled, frowning at the rosy light that mocked her, "Seriously, what the hell? Why not orange? Or purple, even. At least people could consider that a color."

"…it's like an unwritten Power Rangers rule," Linkara shrugged, "Every time there're two women on a team, one of them usually end up with pink. Well, with the exception of Wild Force and RPM."

MarzGurl's eyebrows raised as she looked between her own morpher and Spoony's, also confused about the team's current color choices.

"Wait," she asked slowly, "I'm a little confused. I know I haven't really watched a whole lot of the show after the first few seasons, but usually isn't the set-up for these kind of teams usually that the girls are assigned pink and yellow? And here I've got blue...not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Eh," Linkara replied, shrugging again, "I guess we're just happening to go with the Mystic Force color scheme. It happens sometimes. Granted, not often but every once in a while—"

"That's enough of your pointless, insipid ramblings for now, Linkara." Insano interrupted, rubbing his forehead, "Sheesh, you're bound to give everyone a headache if we let you drone on and on about that silly children's show like that."

"And yet," Linkara grinned, "You created an entire set of powers based around it…"

"Maybe hearing all your imbecilic fanboy rantings caused a few pesky ideas to get stuck in my head," Insano shot back.

"I dunno," the comic teased, "sounds to me like a certain evil genius might have a bit of a soft spot for the show…"

The embarrassed flush that painted the flustered goggled mad-scientist seemed to be in competition with the Nostalgia Chick's morpher over which could be the brighter shade of cotton candy pink, as he grumbled a half-hearted, unintelligible denial under his breath.

Doctor Tease cast a smile toward Professor Celluloid. She knew that there was no turning back. Even if they wanted to, they weren't sure if they could unbind the morphers' energy from the reviewers with anything short of death or something causing a catastrophic failure of the energy field that they'd dubbed 'the Morphing Grid'. However, a visible edge of fear and doubt weighed upon her lips, making her smile seem more uncertain.

_They're internet personalities, _the uncertainty said, _not a highly trained task force. They don't have any experience. How do we know that they're not going to get killed out there?  
><em>

Her orange-haired colleague returned her smile. However, his smile was devoid of any of the doubt and fear that haunted her countenance. In its place, a confidence and optimism that one usually sees in a person who knows that they can't afford to show uncertainty.

_We don't know. _His own confidence replied silently, _but, they're all we've got right now. Besides, they've got us backing them up; there's no way that they can fail._

The blonde's smile grew more reassured as she looked back at the five reviewers and the mad scientist, now chatting excitedly as he filled them in about the various odds and ends surrounding their newly acquired roles.

Still, that faint sense of worry grasped at the pit of her stomach, making her feel uneasy.

As tempting as it would be to see what scientific knowledge could be gained from performing an autopsy upon their corpses, she prayed to all that was holy in the world that she would never get that chance.

_They'll pick it up quickly,_ She told herself, _Don't worry. They're going to be okay...I hope._

* * *

><p>An icy, unforgiving moon flitted through the elegant onyx iron bars of the castle's windows. The faint, smoky mist that rolled along the floor seemed more like a drifting specter as it caught the pearlescent light.<p>

A soft pattering of feet echoed off the stone floor, breaking the heavy, cathedral-like silence in the air. A young boy, possibly no older than seven by his appearance, merrily ran through the hall chasing after a squat, brownish toad that had managed to find its way into the fortress. The child did not appear to be entirely human in appearance, but rather taking on the appearance of a hybrid between a human child and a calico-spotted kitten.

Two tiny fangs peeked out as the child bit his lower lip. An impish spark glimmered in his yellow eyes as he sized up his opponent. The frog, hidden within the mist, stared back, coyly challenging the cat-boy to attempt to strike. The cat-boy took this challenge as he pounced, extending his claws as he dived into the mist.

No sooner had he done that did the trollish frog leap out of the way, sending the anthropomorphic cat creature crashing face-first into the ground. The frog croaked, laughing at the child as it hopped away, disappearing into the darkness.

The cat-boy grumbled to himself as he rubbed his aching forehead. Not deterred in the least bit, the boy stood up, peering into the shadow after the toad. It was starting to get dark, the boy noticed, realizing once he could no longer find his target.

A loud wooshing sound echoed through the corridor as the boy summoned a ball of fiery-light into his hand. The sound repeated as the boy waved his hand in an arc. Around him, lines of torches and candles sprang to life, bathing the hallway in a dusty, sulfuric light.

A sound echoed in the distance, causing the young creature's pointed ears to perk up. Immediately, he forgot his amphibian plaything as he sprinted down the dark corridor.

When he stopped, he was in another dark room. This room was dark, much like the corridor. No windows adorned this room, illuminating the space with its ghostly light. Instead, only several large mirrors, their elegant frames twisted like gnarled branches, threatening to ensnare the viewer's reflection, pulling them deeper into the mirror's void.

Two of the mirrors began to shimmer and waver like water as the figures of the dragon-masked man and the white-haired cat-woman emerged from each of the mirrors.

"Mama!" the cat-like creature cried happily as he threw his arms around the cat-woman's waist, ignoring the now fading traces of a fight that decorated her body. The cat-woman smiled warmly as she ruffled the child's hair.

"Cayatan," she said, the hard edge in her voice softening, "You didn't bother Lord Malachite while I was gone, did you?"

"Nope!" the child replied, wrinkling his nose, "I mostly stayed away from him, today. He looks angry…."

The cat-woman and the dragon-masked man exchanged worried glances with one another. Had Malachite already found out about their failure to eliminate the reviewers before they could be rescued? And if he hadn't, how was telling him that they, with their armies, had somehow managed to get outsmarted by five unskilled children and a group of blithering scientists?

"Did he say what he was upset about?" the dragon-masked man asked, trying to feign the usual friendly patience one must have when dealing with a child.

"No…" Cayatan replied, "The Synthspectors returned, and he was yellin' at them about something."

Again, the two adults grimaced as they thought of the prospect of dealing with an infuriated sorcerer. If they were lucky, he'd cooled down a little since then, and would at worst, strike them with lightning for a few minutes.

Once more ruffling the child's hair, the cat-woman let go of him. The dragon-masked man's frown deepened with displeasure as the child happily skipped away, leading the two to Malachite's throne room.

Why did Malachite allow that child to carelessly run about the castle like that? He wondered. The creature may have been his partner's son, but it was still a liability for him to be running around so carelessly. It was far too much of a distraction, he believed.

Surely, Malachite had some reason for this, he knew. But, as of yet, the ancient sorcerer did not trust him well enough yet to tell him everything. One day, he swore, he would prove him self worthy of his master's confidences.

The first thing the two warriors felt upon stepping into the throne room was the icy shards of terror stabbing into their spines like razors. Their eyes darted around the room, desperate to gravitate towards anything besides the ominous, twisted stone and bone chair across the room and the dark figure that sat in it.

"Tegon, Devafen…" Malachite's low voice growled with measured calmness, "I heard that you and the Synthspectors failed to eliminate those dim-witted reviewers before Insano and his friends could find them."

Involuntarily, the two felt themselves compelled to drop onto one knee, lowering their heads in disgrace.

"Do you realize," Malachite asked, his voice never once rising in anger, "Just how much letting them get away has cost us? If one group of them has broken free from our control, what's to stop the others from doing the same thing? Do you realize how much energy will need to be spent to correct this mistake and ensure that it doesn't happen again?"

"My Lord," Devafen, the cat-woman said, "I apologize for our failure. We were caught off guard, that's all. We will make sure that we will not fail you again."

Malachite shot a knife-like glare at the woman through his sunglasses. Involuntarily, Devafen winced in response, as if she had been burnt by touching a hot stove. His subordinates, he glared,_ dared_ to give him excuses for their failures?

"But," Tegon, the masked man, said, "My lord, you forget that the Synthspectors did manage to capture the brother of the one they call the Nostalgia Critic, and are currently keeping him under a sleep enchantment. Perhaps we can use him as a bargaining chip against them if need be?"

Tegon trembled, bracing himself for an onslaught of magical torment from his cold-hearted leader. However, the sorcerer did not glare angrily at him. Rather, a twisted grin crossed his lips as he drummed his fingers against the arm of the throne.

"Perhaps we could," the sorcerer said slyly, "but, let's let them hang for a while before we do anything. Besides, our captives may prove to be much more useful to us later."

A malicious, cold laugh echoed from the immortal shadow-clad sorcerer's lips. Like the bite of a poisonous viper, his laugh filled the hearts of those who heard it with its venom, slowly pouring its madness into them as it seeped into their veins, until they too had no choice but to either freeze in fear or laugh with him, becoming part of his madness.

His subordinate's failure, he thought, while being a very costly mistake to clean up, was only a minor setback. And what difference did a few setbacks make in the grand scheme of things?

Next time they wouldn't be quite so lucky. Soon, his plan would succeed, and he would control the multiverse. Soon, he would reshape it into the perfect place, as it should be. Soon, he would exact his revenge on all the fools that that stood in his way the first time.

_Yes_, he thought, smirking to himself, _I must be patient. It's only a matter of time._


	3. Chapter 2: Nexus Part II

_Disclaimer/Author's note: See Prologue for Disclaimer. I'd also just like to thank everyone who has been reading this story and enjoying it so far. I know I probably never say this, but I really appreciate you guys a lot. And even if you aren't enjoying the story, thanks for reading, anyways._

_And, I know I'm a bit late but yes, I am aware of the events that occurred between Spoony and TGWTG during late June. Yes, a lot of it did leave me saddened (this is actually an understatement, but I'd rather leave it at that for the time being), and questioning the appropriateness of continuing this story. However, seeing as that the drama has had time to settle, I've decided to continue this story, as well as to continue writing stories featuring both Spoony and the rest of Channel Awesome. _

_As that there seems to be no hostility between either parties involved (From what I understand, Spoony and some of the other CA producers are still on friendly terms with one another. Also that, despite Spoony no longer being with the site, he and other contributors have not been forbidden from doing crossovers/cameos with each other). And, seeing as that I personally hold no ill-will or hatred toward either party, I see no reason not to continue writing. _

_That being said, however, some of the things I've had planned for future chapters may unintentionally come across as a bit awkward and uncomfortable, given the circumstances. Please note that this is not my intention with said scenes, and that absolutely no disrespect is ever intended toward any character or reviewer. _

_(Also: pixel base credit for cover art belongs to Taiko554. The pixel-editing for the suit designs and the logo/layout were done by me. And, sorry for the very lengthy A/N for this chapter. I promise that next chapter will have shorter notes)._

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>Chapter 2: <span>Nexus (Part II)**_

MarzGurl wasn't sure that she'd ever be able to get used to any of this.

Even almost a day after they had been given more details about their new enemies, as well been given time to settle into their new location, she still couldn't help but feel her eyes drift toward the morpher clasped firmly around her wrist.

Them? Power Rangers? It all seemed far too surreal to possibly be true.

She could hear the nagging voices of doubt echoing in her mind. _'You don't know what your doing'_ the voice sneered, '_You know your going to fail. And, when that happens, who knows what Malachite will do to you?'_

She wondered if the others felt this same sort of fear and doubt. For the most part, her colleagues seemed to be fixed into stony masks of grim determination, focused on learning everything they could about this war they had been cast into.

However, there were always small things—a slight twitch in the corner of their mouths, a glint of worried light in their eyes, a slight tremor through their bodies—that betrayed her friends' true emotions.

They too heard that nasty, nagging voice hissing in their ears like a snake, reminding them what was at stake should they fail. For some of them, like the Nostalgia Critic, this fight was personal—the enemy had crossed a line with him, and he was going to make sure that they paid for that mistake. Like her, he was apprehensive, but the part of his brain that thirsted for vengeance simply would not allow him to feel terrified.

For others, like Linkara, MarzGurl was amazed to even see the faint glimmer of fear beneath his blue eyes. He was the supposedly the Champion of their Earth, according what Lord Vyce had said to him. The inevitable danger that accompanies saving the world should have been something he'd come to expect by now.

But, she reminded herself, this was something much larger than just the world; this was the multi-verse itself. True, they did have a little magic on their side (in the form of the Magic Gun) in addition to technology, but was that really going to be enough against their enemies?

It wasn't like they were facing some interdemensional alien or insane robot with no understanding of either magic or technology. No, they were facing up against an immortal sorcerer who'd been around long enough to practically write the book on magic, and possibly with multiple universes worth of soldiers at his disposal.

MarzGurl suppressed a shudder as she hastily looked back down at her morpher. Although the light had faded, solidifying into a solid blue, the energy that pulsed through the device seemed to bring a small ray of comfort, piercing through the haze of doubt like the sunrise breaking through the morning mists.

There was no reason for fear, it tried to reassure her, for they were far stronger than they even realized it. It was no mere accident or coincidence that had brought them together under these circumstances.

Sure, Insano and his team had had some hand in bringing them there and developing these powers, but it felt like that was only a small piece of a much larger puzzle; one that MarzGurl herself could not even begin to understand.

Her fears put to rest for the moment, she allowed herself to absorb her surroundings with proper interest. She was walking along what appeared to be a sidewalk belonging to a city street. Skyscrapers loomed overhead like monoliths, carving a small piece out of the pale blue afternoon sky.

She could hear the roar of the bustling city as people and cars rushed past her, seemingly oblivious to the presence of her and the others. Curiously, the young woman turned her head as a woman pushing a baby carriage passed by her. Much like with Insano's nurse, the people seemed completely human at first, but there was that faint, resonating aura that hung around them that made one skeptical of their true nature.

A light, amused laugh had escaped Doctor Tease's lips as she noticed the wide-eyed, awed expressions that painted the reviewer's faces.

"I'm guessing by your surprise," She said, "that you weren't expecting that there was an entire city above the lab. Though, I'm not sure how you could be surprised. After all, the residential quarters are located near this level. Surely, you would have seen it from your rooms last night?"

"We did." Chick replied, "I'm more confused by how you guys managed to build the lab underground without anyone noticing. I mean, the place looks pretty big, from what I've seen. Surely, someone would have noticed you guys tearing up the place to build it."

"Actually," Tease explained, "The lab was built first, and the city was formed on top of it. In fact, the city is also part of the lab itself. Most of what you see here are highly interactive holograms, much like Nurse, or androids. A lot of the buildings here actually double as holographic transmitters. "

"So," Linkara said, "Basically, this entire city is just like one massive Star Trek holodeck."

"In a sense, yes." Tease continued, "However, most of what you see here—the people, the animals, and so forth—also serve the purpose of environmental control or masking this dimension's energy readings to make sure that we aren't detected by anyone we don't want finding us."

She fell silent as a small, thin smile appeared upon her lips. She didn't want to admit that the main reason for making this part of the dimension look like a city was something simpler and more personal than what she explained. She felt that if she and the other mad scientists had had something to remind them of Earth, having to stay in this empty dimension wouldn't have to make them feel quite so lonely.

It was kind of silly, she admitted. After all, they were brilliant scientists—they were supposed to beyond things like simple aesthetics and human comforts. But, then again, they were still human; they still felt the same emotions, they still had desires, they still had dreams.

So, maybe it wasn't quite as silly as she made it out to be.

Her smile grew more confident as she continued to show them around the rest of the "city", giving a more detailed run-down of the functions and purposes of most everything that they passed, despite the fact that she knew most of what she was talking about was probably too complicated for them to understand in the first place.

MarzGurl slowed her pace, falling in next to Spoony as the group continued to walk, now making their way though an area that resembled a park. A deep frown darkened the gamer's face as he crossed his arms, lost deep in thought.

For a moment, MarzGurl contemplated just leaving him alone, for fear that disturbing him from his thoughts would only result in her getting yelled at, or at worst, getting punched.

However, there was something about the way he looked at that moment that suggested to her that perhaps he needed someone to talk to, or at least someone to listen to what was bugging him.

"Hey," she said, tapping him on the shoulder, "You okay? You've been pretty quiet. Normally, we can't get you to shut up."

"I'm okay," He said in a tone that suggested the opposite.

"You sure about that?" she asked

"Yeah," he replied, "I just didn't sleep well last night, that's all. I mean, between everything that's happened since yesterday and the fact that Linkara and Critic stayed up all last night singing Broadway showtunes…"

Linkara, who had been walking just ahead of them, cast a reproachful glare behind them, as if offended by Spoony's comment.

"Hey!" he said, defensively

"Oh please," Spoony replied, playfully, "The way you two were singing, we could hear you from a mile away! We were starting to think this place was being haunted by an off-key Gilbert and Sullivan."

"Oh come on," Linkara said, "That's not fair! We were totally on-key, for your information."

"And yet, he doesn't deny the singing part." MarzGurl said.

"Whatever," Linkara grinned, giving a dismissive wave toward his fellow reviewer, "I just like to sing. I can't help it that you're just jealous that I can actually carry a tune."

"Can't argue with you on that one," Spoony said, returning both the light-hearted grin and the dismissive wave.

Spoony's smile lingered for a while after Linkara's back was turned. However, slowly, it began to fade, replacing itself once more with the kind of suppressed melancholy that often accompanies an uncomfortable silence.

However, this silence did not have time to grow heavy enough to crush its audience with anxiety and worry. MarzGurl was simply not going allow for that to happen.

"Something's bothering you," she said, breaking the silence between them, "Isn't it?"

Like a hypnotized person being awaken from a trance, Spoony blinked, staring at his fellow reviewer as if he had forgotten she was there. Absently, he ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to break from the sharp, demanding glare that pierced straight through him.

Why was he so nervous, he wondered? It was a simple question. So, why did he feel this uncomfortable knot in the pit of his stomach, forcing him to fight the urge to vomit? Why did his throat feel as dry as Death Valley in the middle of July, so that no words could possibly escape?

"W-what?" Spoony cleared his throat, as he hastily tried to establish a wall of confidence, "Me? Bothered? You high or something? Why would anything be bothering me?"

"Really?" she replied, "Because your face is telling me something totally different."

"I'm okay," he said, a little more forcefully than he would have liked. Involuntarily, he winced as he saw the female reviewer recoil uncomfortably at his overly blunt response.

She gave a sharp, offended glare that silently said '_You know, you really suck at lying' _as she hurried ahead of him.

He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. Truth be told, she was at least partially right. There was something plaguing his mind with unrest. It scratched at the edges of his mind, slowly tearing cracks into his carefully established smart-mouthed persona.

He knew he could try to sweep it under the metaphorical rug, pretend that it didn't exist; insisting that he was perfectly okay and that it would just pass. But, much like an illness, he knew this feeling wouldn't simply vanish if he ignored it.

In fact, it'd only get stronger if left undealt with, until eventually it'd slip into one of his unconscious thoughts, breaking him with just the right amount of force to distort his perceptions, forcing him to do something stupid enough to get himself—or worse, the others—seriously hurt or killed.

_Homesickness is a bitch_, He sighed to himself, running his fingers through his hair once more as he watched after the rest of the group.

For the rest of the tour, a relative silence had wormed its way into the gap left following the end of Spoony and MarzGurl's discussion. Almost immediately, the gamer had tried to put aside the lingering ache of homesickness as he made mental note to stop by the robotics station with Linkara later.

After all, he knew that while Nurse and Professor Celluloid were working on getting Burton, Pollo and Nimue operational again, there was only so much that they could handle on their own. Inevitably, they have to ask them for help anyways, so they might as well give them a hand.

That was, if he could remember where the robotics station was.

The group spoke very little as they completed their trek through the artificial city and the lab that lay below. Only Doctor Tease's occasional lecture kept the silence from becoming too oppressive. In fact, they were almost staring to welcome it, for it was not only a chance to fulfill whatever small curiosity piqued their interest, but also as a brief chance to slip in some idle chatter to lighten the mood.

However, as they reached the entrance to the lab, the already brief moments of light-hearted camaraderie were quickly squelched, much like a bucket of icy water thrown upon a fire.

An alarm, loud and blaring, much like a fire-alarm, echoed around them, growing louder as it bounced off of the metal walls. The reviewers' hearts clenched tightly in their chests as panic-born adrenaline shot through their veins.

Doctor Tease, however, looked calm, not once breaking her stride, as she raised her arm, the palms of her hands turned upwards as if she were checking her pulse. With her free hand, she tapped the silver bracelet around her wrist. Almost instantly, two, perpendicular holographic rectangles, one resembling a keypad and the other a screen, flickered to life and hovered above her wrist.

Without looking down at the keypad, the blonde haired scientist typed in a command, causing the alarm to cease. She mumbled to herself as she continued to type, causing the patterns on the screen to shift as numerous smaller windows, each displaying a chart graph or scrolling wall of code, popped up on the screen.

She bit her lower lip as she finished reading through the data on the screen, before typing in another command; this one causing the smaller windows to disappear. The holographic monitor flickered again, this time bringing up the image of Doctor Insano.

"So," Tease said, "looks like we've got a live signal. That or the alarms have started going glitchy, too."

_"It's not a glitch,"_ Insano replied, "_I'm positive we have something."_

"So," she asked, "Is it just the one signal? Or were we lucky enough to pick up multiple readings this time?"

"_It's just one anomaly this time_." Insano said, frowning slightly, "_Just get over to the control room as soon as possible. We'll discuss everything there."_

"We're on our way," Doctor Tease said, before tapping the bracelet once more, shutting off the device.

"What was that?" Linkara asked, struggling to keep up with the blonde scientist as she practically began sprinting down the corridor; a feat that one might consider remarkable given the fact she was wearing a pair of high-heels.

"In short?" she said over her shoulder, "It's showtime."

In a matter of minutes the crew entered the control room. An excited electricity hummed in the air as Doctor Insano and Professor Celluloid (the latter of the two seeming to have just arrived not but a minute before they had) bustled about, typing frantically as they analyzed the lines of data that zipped across the monitors with dizzying speed.

"We're here," Critic said, causing the two mad scientists to look up from their work, "Now what's all this damn noise about?"

"We've picked up a signal from one of your reviewer friends." Insano explained, "We haven't got a definite lock, but from what we've gathered, we're speculating that the target might be that friend of yours you call the Cinema Snob."

"Well," MarzGurl said, suppressing a shudder, "Let's hope that Malachite didn't decide to throw the others into dimensions that had anything to do with what they usually review."

"I dunno," Spoony grinned, "I think a porn themed dimension might be kinda fun."

"Ewww…." MarzGurl rolled her eyes, smacking the dark haired gamer on the back of the head, "That's just sick! But seriously, I don't think you'd really want to be caught dead in anything based off any of the exploitation flicks that Snob's reviewed. I mean, seriously_; Salo_, anyone?"

Spoony rubbed the back of his head as he opened his mouth to retort, only to close it again when the brown-haired female reviewer gave him a threatening look.

"Okay, you've got a point…." he said, "Still, give me a break, will ya? It's been a while since the last time I've been—"

Hurriedly, Linkara clamped his hand over his friend's mouth, muffling the last part of his sentence. The gamer could only shoot him a look laced with disbelief and annoyance as he tried to wriggle his way free from the comic reviewer's hold on him.

"—Almost gave us a little too much information there, Spoony," Linkara said.

"What?" Spoony countered, "I've said way worse things than that before."

Linkara did not reply, but rather decided to turn his attention toward the group of mad scientists who had patiently been waiting for the minor interruption to pass, so that they could get things back on track once more.

"Anyways," Professor Celluloid explained, waving a hand toward the display on the monitor, "From what we managed to pick up of our scans, we think he's in some dimension that appears similar to 1920s America."

Critic couldn't help but find himself bouncing on the heels of his shoes ever so slightly at the description of this. Ever since he was a kid, he and his brother had had something of a mild fascination with the 1920s 'mobster' style.

After all, growing up in Chicago, a city whose history was almost tied with that particular era, the two had practically been surrounded by the culture that spawned from it. They'd spent many hours reading books about famous criminals like Dillinger and Capone.

Granted, Critic didn't exactly want to end up like any of them (He, for one, much preferred living over being gunned down), but there was always this sort of suaveness and sophistication about them that he'd always found somewhat fascinating, that he wished he might one day be cool enough to possess.

Hearing that he was actually going to be in a dimension experiencing this culture, or at least a strongly emulated form, was kind of the equivalent of letting one's inner child run loose through a candy store.

"What about any enemy activity in the area?" Chick asked, "When you guys picked us up they had those faceless guys set up around us. They've probably got even more of them around this time."

"Our scanners have picked up some Synthspector activity in the vicinity," Insano explained, pulling up another chart on the screen, "But, the signals are fairly distorted."

"So," Doctor Tease said, "That means their still disguised. Which means that they probably haven't noticed anything yet. That, or the signal's still not strong enough to cause them much alarm."

"Either way," Critic thought aloud, "That means we should be able to sneak in, get Snob, and clear out of there faster than an audience at a Michael Bolton concert, before they even knew what hit them."

"That's the plan." Insano nodded.

"I'll activate a portal somewhere within a two kilometer radius of the signal," Celluloid said, "But, once you're there, I can't keep it open. Otherwise, we'd accidentally blow your cover."

"Well then," Critic said, raising his fist as he turned to charge out of the door, "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

* * *

><p>Sunset had fallen over the city, as a warm summer breeze whistled through the tall structures of metal, glass and concrete, carrying with it the sickeningly bitter-sweet scent of liquor and tobacco smoke.<p>

Almost as if this wind were the Pied Piper from the old children's tales, it danced through the streets to the tune of jazz saxophones and pianos, drawing the normally dormant citizens of the city from their homes and office buildings, inviting them to partake in the nightly festivities.

The sun, not being much of the type for wild parties, bid adieu to the day as a large silver moon rose in its place. Like a flirty young woman, the neon lights of the city flickered to life, beaming at the moon in a deceptively warm greeting of reds, greens and golds.

However, there were two figures that were not enraptured in this night-time ritual. Standing atop the roof of one of the taller buildings in the area, one that the glow of the city night-life could not touch, two figures stood, glaring down with disdain at the scene that played below them.

These two, of all the creatures that dwelled in this dimension, seemed the most highly out of place. Not just in their outfits, or the air of indifference they carried themselves with, but also in the fact that neither one of them seemed fully human.

After all, one was a cat-woman with snowy hair, and the other was a lizard-like man whose face was obscured partially by a silver mask. There weren't a lot of places outside of sci-fi or anime conventions where they could go unnoticed.

The cat-woman wrinkled her nose in displeasure as another cigar scented breeze blew through the still night air. Her golden eyes, however, did not break from scanning the skyline, searching for the slightest shift in movement that would prompt her and her partner to break away from mere observation.

She was starting to get bored. They'd been up there for what felt like hours, and they had not spotted one thing, outside of a nest of pigeons that called this rooftop home. The cat-woman had dealt with that distraction rather quickly, having scared the feathered creatures away with a threatening hiss.

"I don't understand, Tegon," The cat-woman said to her companion, "If Lord Malachite's expecting them to show up, why haven't we ordered the Synthspectors to just kill the target? Why are we bothering letting them find this guy in the first place? Besides, I'm guessing we aren't even going to be able to see them come in from here."

"Devafen," Tegon replied, "Have you ever caught a mouse?"

Devafen shot a menacing, offended glare toward her accomplice as she balled her gloved hands into fist. For a brief moment, she envisioned herself punching that silver dragon mask off of his slimy, lizard-like face.

However, she thought better of it, as she relaxed. It was only a small comment, she tried to tell herself. It didn't mean anything. And, it certainly was not some sort of poorly executed barb toward the fact that she was a cat-person.

Tegon, however, didn't seem to notice his companion's angry scowl, as he continued to pace about the rooftop. His booted feet crunched softly against the concrete as he glided about, circling the perimeter like a guard running sentry over a prison cell.

"Lord Malachite wants to play with them a little before he kills them." He replied, "Besides, they're a bunch of inexperienced humans. It was a fluke that they managed to succeed last time."

Devafen growled something inaudible under her breath in protest. Although she partially agreed with her masked companion's assessment to a degree, she couldn't help but feel that writing them off so quickly was not a good idea.

She winced as her gloved fingers unconsciously ran across her stomach. She could still feel the rough burn-marks that that the magic gun had left underneath her outfit. Although she had managed to heal most of the damage caused by the blast, the burns still stung like an angry bee if touched with the right amount of pressure.

Sure, they might have been dealing with humans, but they were humans with a lot of fight in them. Even years of intense training, perfecting one's mind and body into a lethal weapon, meant nothing without the fire of determination to forge these skills.

Determination itself is a powerful force, she reminded herself, especially in the hands of those lacking experience. While it might only delay an inevitable defeat, it was not going to allow said victory to be achieved easily.

A faint shift in pressure rippled through the air, unfelt by anyone but the two non-humans. Devafen sniffed, catching the peculiar, tangy scent of electricity permeating through the still air. The scent, although faint, inflamed her scenes as her body tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up. Her pupils contracted, shrinking into two thin slits of black amongst a pool of amber. A low, threatening hiss escaped her as she bared her teeth in a menacing growl.

There was some sort of distortion nearby, her senses told her. She didn't know what it was exactly, but if she had to take a pretty good guess, she figured that it was probably due to a portal opening up somewhere.

"They're here," she said, "Time to get things started, I guess. Ready?"

Tegon nodded, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath as he raised a claw-like hand in front of him. Immediately, the cat-woman followed suit, copying his movements down to the slightest positioning of her fingers.

A faint purple glow surrounded their outstretched hand as they carved a symbol into the air with their fingers. Like a star, the light flared brighter before vanishing out of existence. Now, invisible energy coursed through the two as their forms began to waver like water.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. No longer did it appear that two highly out of place creatures were standing on the roof of a building. Instead, they were replaced by a curvy dark-haired human woman and a rather shark-like man whose slicked back hair looked as if someone had held his head in a vat of hair grease.

"Let's go," the greasy-haired man, formerly known as Tegon said, "Remember. Be careful. Don't let them figure out who you are. If they do, don't be afraid to attack them."

The voluptuous former cat-woman rolled her eyes as she followed her companion down the stairs. Sure, it was easy for him to _say_ something like that, she thought. But how well was he going to be able to keep their cover once he spotted them. Not a lot of people had ever been able to manage to escape Tegon when his sights were set to kill.

The ones who hadn't were usually the lucky ones. The ones that had eluded him were the ones that were in the worst trouble, for the punishment that that would befall them if and when he ever found them again would be more than enough to make them wish they had died the first time. That death would have been far less painful in comparison.

Maybe that's why Malachite kept him around, she thought.

* * *

><p>In another, quieter sector of the city, a rat scurried through a shadowed ally as it rummaged for whatever crumbs and table scraps the owners of the surrounding buildings had tossed out. Its nose sniffed the air, sifting through the scents of the darkened alleyway.<p>

A faint crackling of electricity nearby caused the furred creature to pause, looking up toward the source of this unfamiliar sound. A strong breeze blew through the narrow alley, frantically stirring loose bits of trash in its draft.

The furred creature squeaked, fleeing for solace in the darker recesses of the alley, as a bright light shot from the wall, briefly illuminating the area as if it were struck by lightning. If the creature had bothered to stay around long enough, it would have heard the soft crunch of concrete against shoes as five figures emerged from the now fading light.

The team stood still, holding their breath as the Critic, their undeclared leader, quickly scanned over the area with his eyes. Once they had determined that the place was clear, the group relaxed a little.

"Oh man," MarzGurl said, swaying just a little as she tried to steady herself, "That trip across the portal kind of left me a little woozy. What about you guys?"

The others nodded in agreement, silently hoping that this would be something that would eventually go away once they became accustomed to traveling between dimensions.

However, the group quickly recovered as they were reminded of the task at hand. They knew that it would only be a matter of moments before the Synthspectors, Malachite's faceless mooks, would sense their presence and descend upon their location like a swarm of flies.

They needed to disguise themselves, they thought as they raised their morphers. Once they were undercover, then they'd have a little more time to talk without worrying about being detected.

Hesitantly, the group tapped a command into the morphers' keypads. Complex, but very sophisticated looking charts, graphs and other readouts flashed across the screen as the devices began to analyze the dimension, determining which type of disguises would be appropriate for them.

The reviewers shivered involuntarily as a shockwave of energy shot from the devices, running across their bodies. Admittedly, they were a bit surprised by this sudden surge of energy, mostly because they had not been expecting it to have a similar feel of having cold water poured on oneself.

Their bodies tensed, squeezing their eyes shut as they braced themselves for whatever onslaught of pain that they might suddenly feel once the process was started. However, that pain never came, for the process had suddenly ended.

Nervously, Chick opened one eye, hoping that the next thing she saw upon opening her eyes wouldn't be the sight of her friends either A) twisted and mutated beyond recognition or B) fried to a crisp.

Well, she thought to herself, she didn't smell any burning flesh, or hear any screams of torment. So, option B didn't seem likely. However, that didn't rule out option A, she reminded herself.

Thankfully, she sighed upon opening her eyes, neither scenario seemed to have happened. The difference she did notice in her friends, however, was that they all seemed to be dressed far differently than they had been when she had closed her eyes. Or rather, she would have noticed this, had the tip of a large pink ostrich feather not flopped into the edge of her vision.

"Wonderful," she said sarcastically as she pushed the feather out of her eye, "The morphers turned us into rejects from _The Great Gatsby_. Or at least the cast of _Chicago_."

"Speak for yourself," Spoony mumbled, tugging on the edge of the faded and frayed yellow scarf that had appeared around his neck, "I look like I just got thrown out of the cast of _The Newsies._ And no, I don't feel like singing or dancing. In fact, I feel kind of dorky right now."

"Ah, come on!" MarzGurl reassured him, the blue beads around her neck rattling as she put her arm around his shoulder, "It could be worse. The morpher could have fried your brains out completely."

"You know," Linkara said, checking out his new outfit (a dark green suit with matching fedora hat) in a nearby puddle of water, "Harvey was always trying to get me to wear suits more often. Now I see why. Damn, I look good."

Critic rolled his eyes as he tapped the comic reviewer on the back of the head.

"Would you quit admiring yourself?" Critic said, "You look like if the Riddler was a used car salesman. Besides, we've got work to do right now, remember?"

The others nodded as they stood at attention, assuming a military-like air of seriousness to them. Admittedly, Critic couldn't help but find their stern faces to be slightly unnerving. After all, in all the times that he had lead them on adventures before, none of them had ever taken him this seriously.

Usually, they seemed to follow him with bemused interest, or mild annoyance, as they wandered what insane scheme he was going to pull them into next. But now, things were different. Now they looked to him as a leader, someone to guide them and make sure that everyone got out of this safe. He was responsible for them as much as they were responsible for him.

And, if there was one thing that Critic knew about himself, it was that he never handled responsibility well.

"So," Linkara asked, "How the heck are we supposed to find Snob, anyways? I mean, he could be anywhere around here. Where are we supposed to start looking?"

Critic paused as he considered the question. That was a good point, he realized. The dimension itself was huge, and even if they were in a few kilometers' distance of the target, that was still a lot of ground to cover. It could take them hours to cover that much ground.

Maybe, he thought as he summoned his morpher, he could get some sort of lock on Snob using the morpher. Maybe it couldn't put them at the exact location, but at least it could give them some idea where to start looking.

A soft bleep, like a sonar-echo, emitted from the device as he began to press a few buttons, hoping that he just so happened to be pressing the right combination. Silently, he wished that the mad scientists had given them a slightly better run-down of the various functions of the morphers.

It was by some fantastic stroke of luck (though if asked, he would have claimed it was due to his own natural brilliance) that he had managed to figure out the correct set of commands for a search.

"If this map is correct," Critic said, "It says that the last clear reading was about fifteen minutes ago at a place called the Gray Swan. I'm guessing that's probably some sort of speak-easy club located somewhere downtown. But, since then the signal's kind of gotten a little fuzzy."

"Which means," Chick concluded, "That either he's no longer there. Or something's distorting the signal."

"Either way," MarzGurl added, "We aren't going to find out anything if we just keep standing here like this."

The others agreed as they began to head out into the open street, not knowing what awaited them in the near future.

* * *

><p>Finding the Gray Swan was a fairly easy task, even without the aid of the morphers. The dusty, faded sign with a picture of a swan on it was, after all, a fairly obvious give-away.<p>

Getting into the club, however, was not as easy of a challenge. Of course, the sign actually belonged to a small little café that the club must have been using as a front, while the actual entrance was located somewhere near the back. Also, like most private clubs during this era, the door was being guarded by a burly looking man that they could only describe as "a bear in a suit".

Chances were, the reviewers reasoned, that there was a good chance there wasn't much that was going to make the door guard move. And, they agreed, it was almost a certainty that if they bothered him too much, he'd probably crush them like bugs before they even had a chance to run-away.

Of course, having no other real plan, they decided that they might as well risk it.

"Hey!" The guard said, jumping to attention as they approached the door, "State your business."

"We're hear to see someone," Critic said, trying his best not to sound freaked out by the guard's imposing stare, "Heard he might be hanging around here."

"We got lots of people here." The guard growled, "Be more specific, or beat it."

"We're looking for a guy who goes by the nickname Cinema Snob," Spoony explained, "You heard of him?"

If the guard had been bored by them before, he now showed no signs of it. His eyes narrowed with suspicion as his scowl deepened. The reviewers shrank back uncomfortably as the guard suddenly appeared more imposing to them.

"Yeah, 'course I heard of him," the guard replied, "He's the boss 'round these parts. What you want with him?"

"He knows us," Critic said, "We're old friends of his. We just came to talk."

"Yeah?" the guard said, rubbing his hands as he took a step forward, "You got five minutes to explain to me just why I should believe you."

Sweat began to trickle down Critic's forehead as his brain started racing, struggling to come up with a believable answer that wouldn't expose their real identities. He started to open his mouth, but was quickly stopped as Linkara stepped past him, his shoulders squared and his eyes fixed on the bear-like bouncer.

"Listen pal," Linkara said, "It's a bad idea to go beating people up outside like this. If the police see you do that, then they're going to be asking some questions. And, then they might investigate this place. And, seeing that I doubt this place has many legal activities going on, they might shut down this whole operation, and you'll be out of a job. So, it'd be a lot easier for everyone if you just let us in."

The guard, though scowling, relented and opened the door for them. The others simply stared at the comic reviewer as they passed him, too dumbfounded to properly process what had just happened.

"What?" Linkara shrugged nonchalantly, "Harvey taught me a few things about dealing with guys like that. It's nothing really."

"So," Spoony asked, "That usually works for you?"

"Well, counting that; it's only worked twice." Linkara replied, "The other time the guy died."

Now the other reviewers stared at Linkara with wide, terrified eyes, slowly backing away from the comic reviewer as if they were afraid he was going to pull a knife out on them.

"…The Entity?" Linkara reminded them with a mild air of exasperation, "You know, Missing Number? Remember?"

His companions mumbled words of relief as they continued to venture deeper into the dark corridor that separated them from the heart of their mission.

The door-guard's eyes narrowed as he watched them disappear through the blackened portal. As if possessed, he robotically tapped the side of his forehead with his fingertips. A shudder convulsed his body before he went as rigid as a marble statue; his countenance eerily blank, as if something had managed to shut off his brain.

"I just encountered a suspicious group of individuals," the man said, his voice slow and emotionless, "I suspect they might be the scientists, or at least working for them."

He paused, listening to a voice that only he could hear.

"….Understood," he continued, his expression remaining unchanged.

Once more he fell silent as the voice in his mind spoke to him. However, the voice must have finished speaking as another invisible shock ran through his body, returning his expression to as it was before.

* * *

><p>Critic couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of several pairs of eyes bearing upon them as they entered the dimly lit bar room. His heart pounded in his chest as he noted the sharp looks of suspicion that came from some of the patrons of the club.<p>

He and his friends didn't belong there, the patrons' shadow-veiled faces said silently from the corners of the room. They were outsiders—both to this establishment, and to this dimension. Whether the patrons were actually aware of the latter one or not, was not something that Critic could easily determine on his own. He was certain, however, that all of the onlookers were painfully aware of just how alien he and the others were to this place.

Almost immediately, however, the tension dissipated as the jazz-band stationed on a platform at one corner of the room began to play again. The patrons, obviously disinterested by the newcomers, returned to their amber-colored drinks and idle chatter.

However, there was one figure, tucked away at a table in the corner, who hadn't so quickly dismissed their presence. A balding man with thick glasses craned his neck, struggling to see over the crowd. He looked at them as if he thought he recognized them, but wasn't sure where he remembered them from.

A raven-haired woman whispered something in his ear, causing him to look away, shaking his head. Perhaps it was all in his mind, he thought, as he gave one last look toward the strangers.

"I think we got him," Critic mumbled under his breath, as he motioned toward the spot where the man they believed to be the Cinema Snob was.

"Snob?" Linkara asked, his gaze following Critic's hand-motion with a bit of difficulty.

"No," Critic snarked, "Jean Claude Van Damme riding a unicorn. Of course it's Snob! Who do you _think_ I'm talking about?"

MarzGurl bit her lip as she studied the two figures beside their captive fellow reviewer. It was likely, she knew, that Malachite had probably stationed some of his soldiers in close proximity to their target. If there was anything she was willing to bet on, it would be that at least one of the two near him was more than likely a spy in disguise.

"We got a problem," she said, "He's got two people nearby. One of them's probably one of Malachite's guys."

"My money's on the shark with the bad hair," Spoony added.

_Damn it_, Critic thought to himself as he examined the table as well. They needed a distraction; something that would keep them off guard long enough to at least get close to Snob.

A sly grin came over Chick's face as she caught sight the bandstand in the opposite corner of the room. Her grin turned towards the others, who only returned it with a look of confusion.

"I have an idea," she said, "Linkara? How's your voice?"

"It's fine," Linkara replied slowly, still not quite sure where his colleague's train of thought was going, "But, I don't see what—."

His words were cut off by a surprised yelp as Chick grabbed his arm, sprinting as she dragged him across the floor toward the band. The others only stared blankly as they watched Chick talking to who they assumed to be the leader of the band.

The man, a saxophone player in a dark gray suit, nodded as he turned to the rest of the band. Within a few moments, a bluesy tune filled the room. The patrons once more fell silent as they became aware of this new sound.

"Hello there, everyone," Chick said, doing her best impression of a sultry lounge singer, "My friend and I would like to dedicate this next song to the couple over in the corner."

She pointed toward the Snob's two companions, both of whom looked visibly bewildered as the spotlight that had been used to illuminate the stage now fell squarely on the two of them.

"Come on up here," Chick said, beckoning them toward the open dance floor, "Don't be shy, you two."

The two looked at each other, unsure of what to do. On one hand, neither one of them were quite so willing to let Snob out of their sights. Besides, they weren't even a couple, they said. On the other, they'd been pretty much put on the spot, and it would have been rude of them to turn down something like that.

Hesitantly, the two stood up and crossed the floor toward the center of the room. Chick shot a quick glance over toward her still confused companions, discreetly giving them the signal to go, before she began singing. Linkara, quickly catching on to the plan, joined in shortly afterwards.

Meanwhile, the remaining three decided to take advantage of the distraction, edged their way toward the table. Snob's eyebrow arched as the three sat down beside him.

"Excuse me," he said, "But, you look kind of familiar. Do I know you?"

In any other situation, Critic would have given a sarcastic, smart alec-ed quip in response. However, now was not the time for this, he reasoned, as he cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. Chick and Linkara could only keep Snob's bodyguards busy for so long. They were going to need to be quick as lightning to convince their mind-altered co-worker to listen to them.

"I don't have a lot of time, here," Critic said, lowering his voice, "So I'm going to be as blunt as possible, and you're going to at least pretend you understand what I'm saying, okay?"

The Snob shifted in his chair, resting his elbows on the table as he folded his hands together. Critic, assuming that this meant that he at least had Snob's attention, started to speak, only to find himself cut off as a young, short-haired waitress appeared next to the table, asking to take the drink orders of the newcomers.

With a few polite rejections, the party dismissed the waitress from the table. As the conversation resumed with Critic, MarzGurl and Spoony taking turns explaining everything they could, Snob peered at them through his glasses, torn between being intrigued and lost in thought.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, across the room, Tegon growled in frustration under his breath as he caught a glimpse of the three reviewers and Snob from the corner of his eye.<p>

"Damn it," he muttered in Devafen's ear, "It's them. They've found him."

Devafen cast a quick look over in the direction of the reviewers as Tegon spun her around, keeping time with the music.

"You sure that's them?" she asked, quirking a skeptical eyebrow as she lead him a few steps backward, "I mean, they can't be stupid enough to try the direct approach again, even if they are in disguise."

The disguised lizard man, intending to interrupt the reviewers' conversation, stalked across the dance floor, only to be gracefully pulled back into the dance by his female companion.

"Not yet," she warned him, circling him "One of the Synthspectors is keeping an eye on them. If it's them, then we'll attack."

She grinned playfully as she wrapped her arm around her annoyed companion, pulling him close to her.

"Besides," she winked, "The music's good and how often do we get to have fun on a mission like this?"

Tegon sighed as he temporarily abandoned his plan, surrendering to his companions' logic. His eyes narrowed as he shot one more needle-like glare toward the trio. They were lucky that Devafen had stopped him from storming over there. But, he reasoned, that didn't mean that he wasn't going to watch them like a hawk.

* * *

><p>The Nostalgia Chick bit her lip as she allowed herself to quickly glance over at her three companions. It was difficult to tell exactly what was going on from a distance, but she guessed that they must have just finished explaining things to Snob.<p>

He sat there with a contemplative expression clouding his face as he tried to make sense of their story. On one hand, Chick believed, he probably reasoned that a lot of their story made some sort sense. After all, it probably touched on a lot of things that he himself had been wondering about; the dreams, the vague sense of unease clawing at his mind, trying to tell him that this wasn't his home—that kind of stuff.

On the other, it probably sounded all too ludicrous to possibly be true. Sorcerers and wormholes were things found in old fairy-tales and pulp novels, not in the sane, logical world of reality.

It wasn't like Chick could blame him for having doubts, however. She was practically surrounded by weirdness, and even she was having trouble fully believing in it.

_C'mon guys, _she silently pleaded, trying her hardest to mask her concern with a smile, _we can't keep singing up here forever. Hurry it up, please. The song's about to end any second now._

The band's music began to get louder, following suit with Linkara and Chick's voices as they held out a high note. With a crash, the song ended, leaving the two singers breathless as a roar of applause echoed through the room, reverberating off the brick walls.

Chick's heart felt as if it had gotten caught in her throat as Tegon and Devafen started to head back toward Snob's table. No, she thought, the others were almost done talking. Their cover would be blown sky high if those two interrupted.

Thankfully, her fears were temporarily alleviated as a waitress approached the dancing due, speaking something that neither Chick nor Linkara could hear. But, Chick assumed, that could just be her trying to take their order or something.

"Looks like it worked," Linkara said under his breath, adjusting his hat as he crossed the floor. Chick started to nod in agreement, but was stopped as she heard the usually ambient club fall deathly silent.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with fear as she turned toward the cause of this ominous silence. Tegon and Devafen now took the stage. A sinister smirk played on the edges of Tegon's lips as he bowed toward his audience.

"We'd like to thank those two for that wonderful song," Tegon said with mock civility, "But, it's starting to get a little late isn't it? Don't you think we all should all get a little sleep?"

A few members of the crowd murmured in confusion as Devafen lifted her hand, muttering something under her breath as she traced a symbol in the air. The crowd's confusion was short-lived as many of them fell to the floor, unconscious.

The members in the crowd, left untouched by this mysterious spell, now turned toward the reviewers, their blank, hypnotized expressions giving away their true identities.

Hurriedly, the reviewers stood up, forming a barrier between Snob and the monster crowd. The air wavered like a mirage as the disguised crowd morphed into their true forms. To Snob, this was easily the most surreal thing he could ever recall. One minute, he was looking at a group of humans—people he could have sworn he knew, no less—and the next, the room was filled with a bunch of pale, faceless creatures.

Suddenly, a soft beep echoed from Critic's morpher. Curious, he tapped the device. In a matter of seconds, Insano's face appeared on the computer's screen.

"_We just picked up a large-scale shift in enemy activity,"_ Insano said, "_Is everything alright?" _

"Ehhhh, kinda…." Critic replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"_What in blue blazes do you mean by 'kinda'," _ Insano shouted, "_What's going on there?!"_

"Well," Critic explained, "We found Snob."

_"…And?"_

"….We might have gotten our cover blown."

Insano made a frustrated noise as he threw his hands up, mumbling something under his breath about 'useless' and 'idiots' and 'genetically engineered monkeys'.

"Don't blame me," Critic replied, "It's Spoony's fault."

"Hey!" Spoony said, offended, "How's this_ my_ fault?! You're the one who was doing most of the talking."

"Well," Critic shot back, "You're the one who sticks out like a sore thumb here."

"Oh yeah," Spoony replied sarcastically, "'Cause I _intentionally_ chose to look like a jackass."

"Yeah?" Critic replied, "Well, if you hadn't practically announced us with the door guard, we might not have—"

"Would you two please shut up?!" MarzGurl said, stepping in between the two arguing men before either could get close enough to possibly hit each other, "Look, it doesn't matter whose fault it is, okay? As far as I'm concerned, this isn't anyone's fault. What's important here is that we need to get out of here and get Snob's memory back. If you two want to squabble like a pair of kids, then do it later, alright?"

Spoony and Critic nodded sheepishly, feeling like a pair of children that had just been given detention by the school principle.

"Speaking of disguises," Chick said, "Anyone else get the feeling that these costumes are pretty much useless right about now?"

The others nodded in agreement as they deactivated the cloaking ability of their morphers. A brief flash of light filled the room, blinding the attacking mob. Tegon grinned when, upon the fading of the light, he noticed the reviewers, now in more modern attire, standing in the place of the five figures from just moments ago.

Silently, he cursed himself for not figuring it out sooner. Although he assumed that the cloaking device must have threw off his senses, he could have sworn that the pink-clad singer from moments ago had looked vaguely like the Nostalgia Chick.

"Hmph," Tegon said, feigning a tone of indifference, "So it seems that the scientists have recruited you to do their dirty work. I guess Lord Malachite's not the only one who wants to see you dead."

"Hello, Linkara." Devafen purred as she waved at the comic reviewer, "So we meet again, huh? You know, I haven't quite forgiven you what you did in our last fight. That was a really dirty move, you know?"

"Any dirtier than you damaging Pollo and disabling Nimue?" Linkara retorted, clenching his fist, "Any dirtier than you practically attacking me while I was unarmed? Any dirtier than you posing as Liz to try and deceive me?"

"Touché," the feline woman conceded, "But, maybe this time, we can have a more fair fight. Well, if you can get past the Synthspectators, first."

Her cat-like grin turned into a disappointed frown as she looked over the numerous faceless mooks that cornered the reviewers.

"Ah," she said, immediately brightening up, "who are we kidding? The chances of us having a fair fight are pretty slim. These guys are going to kill you. Sorry about that."

The reviewers' muscles tensed as they drew closer together, forming a tighter barrier around a very visibly bewildered Snob.

There was only one way that they could escape, as they saw it. Granted, none of them were entirely too fond of this option, but considering that the only other option was to try to break down a brick wall, fighting their way through the enemy ranks was the only possible choice they had.

"You think," Chick asked, "That now would be a pretty good time to use that 'morphing' thing that Insano said that we could do?"

"Not yet." Critic replied, shaking his head, "We could take these freaks no problem. These faceless bastards are just _asking_ to get their asses kicked."

Chick rolled her eyes and sighed in annoyance. _Typical Critic_, she chuckled to herself, _always looking for trouble. _

"Snob," Spoony said over his shoulder to the other reviewer, "Stay close to us. I can't promise we'll get you back safely, though. You think you might be able to settle for possibly making it out in one piece, instead?"

"Hey," Snob said, "You guys know more about what the hell's going on here than I do. I don't think I'm in any position to start arguing with you guys."

Having grown bored with the lack of bloodshed, Tegon brandished his sword, shouting the command for the faceless humanoids to charge.

"Synthspectors," he ordered, "Destroy them!"

In response, Linkara withdrew the Magic Gun from his coat pocket. The other four, not having had the foresight to bring weapons with them, raised their fists into their best imitations of fighting poses, summoning up every ounce of bravado that they could muster as they mentally prepared themselves for the onslaught of faceless creatures.

Like a swarm of angry wasps, the two groups rushed at each other. The sound of thunder cracked through the air as a few blasts of magical energy fired from Linkara's gun, knocking a few of the creatures down, as the crew pushed their way through the crowd.

Near him, Snob, not one to simply stand around as if he were some distressed damsel, had picked up an antique-looking machine-gun from one of the unconscious patrons, and started firing.

Sure, normal bullets were pretty much useless against these beings, whatever they were. But, that didn't mean that he wasn't going give it a try. Besides, he reasoned, his rescuers looked like they needed whatever they could to even the odds between them and the attacking mob.

One of the Synthspectors that had managed to maneuver past Linkara's rapid magical fire lunged at MarzGurl, attempting to catch her off guard. Mere seconds before she could be knocked to the ground, the cartoon reviewer twisted her body out of the way, managing to deliver a rather sloppy, but effective, roundhouse kick.

Chick grunted as another of the pale, faceless humanoids landed a lucky shot on her, sending the brunette flying backward. With a shout, she picked herself up, grabbing the creature by the arm and throwing him into a group of his cohorts.

Nearby, another Synthspector had chased Spoony across the room, and had now gotten him backed up against the bar. The gamer ducked just as the monster's heavy, gloved fist swung down. A sharp crack pierced through the air as the polished wood of the bar splintered under the impact of the creature's fist.

Spoony stood, eyes wide and jaw agape, as he realized just how narrowly he had avoided being hit with what he assumed would have been a lethal blow to the head. Taking advantage of the creatures' momentarily unbalanced state, Spoony elbowed him in the back with enough force to propel the creature forward, sending him crashing into the cabinets of glass liquor bottles.

After several minutes of struggling, the crew had managed to push their way toward the staircase that separated the interior of the club from its non-descript exterior. Critic could almost feel the creatures' hot breath against his neck as their fingertips came dangerously within reach of his necktie.

A furious scowl came across his face as he spun around, seeing his attackers on the stairs below him. The Synthspectors, having mostly recovered from being stunned, climbed up the narrow stairs like an infestation of army ants. Bringing up the rear of the swarm were Tegon and Devafen, their weapons drawn and an unmistakable glint of bloodlust in their eyes.

Growling, Critic kicked the closest Synthspector hard in the chest, pushing him down the narrow stairs. Like dominoes, the other Synthspectors toppled as they were hit with the weight of their falling comrade. Had he not been so focused on escaping, he would have laughed at the undignified pile of toppled bodies that had formed at the bottom of the stairs.

The scent of fresh air was like a much welcomed rain after an intense summer heat wave to the reviewers as they ascended into the city square. They wanted to look behind them, to insure that they had bought themselves the few precious minutes needed to put distance between themselves and the bloodthirsty mob, but fear and adrenaline kept their feet moving forward, despite their lack of direction.

"Insano," Critic spoke into his morpher, "Get us the hell out of here! Quick!"

"_Alright,"_ the mad scientist replied, "_I'll have Celluloid scan for the nearest available por-Gyahh! What in the name of Tesla's coil…?"_

"What's going on?!" MarzGurl asked, "What's the matter?"

"_It appears that a large amount of enemy readings just appeared on the radar,"_ Insano explained, "_And they're descending upon your location as we speak."_

A high, mocking laugh rang through the night air, sending a chill down the reviewer's spines as they looked up, searching for the source of the sound. A blur of black and white descended on the group, landing a few surprise attacks on them. No sooner had they recoiled from that attack, did another fast-moving blur descend on them, disorienting them even more.

The reviewer's groaned as they weakly tried to pull themselves up off the ground. In the seconds that they had been struck, the blurs had managed to grab Cinema Snob, and now materialized into the forms of Tegon and Devafen, flanked by a squad of Synthspectors.

"Oh come on!" Spoony shouted, "You have super-speed? That's cheating!"

"Just give up already, pathetic humans," Tegon hissed, tightening his armlock on Snob, "You wouldn't want anything too bad to happen to your friend here, do you?"

"Let him go, you metal-faced Lizardman reject!" Critic shouted, rushing forward to attack. A shrill whistle rang through the air as Devafen waved her hand in an arc, sending a line of tiny, glowing silver-bladed darts zipping through the air.

The blades, they guessed, must have been enchanted for, although they had missed, they still exploded in a shower of sparks that forced the reviewers to take a few steps backwards, to avoid getting scorched.

"Then again," Tegon grinned, "Even if you didn't do anything, something still might happen to him. After all, Lord Malachite did give us orders to eliminate the captives should they try to escape."

Snob struggled harder as he tried to break free of the masked-man's hold. Tegon barely seemed to notice this as he lifted his squirming captive up, holding the edge of his blade to the captive's throat.

"Of course," he said airily, "I could just slice his throat like a tomato and be done with it. But there wouldn't be any fun in that."

Snob choked a ragged sigh of relief as the lizardman lowered the blade from his throat.

"Besides," he said, turning to the immobilized reviewers, "That still leaves the problem of you."

As if lost in thought, the lizardman stroked his chin with a long, sharp-nailed claw. Critic's face flushed almost as red as his necktie as he clenched his fists tightly. It didn't take a genius to notice that Tegon was toying with them. He knew that, at that moment, none of them could touch him.

If they tried to attack him, the cat-woman would blast them back with her exploding finger-darts. And if Linkara tried shooting at him, he risked hitting Snob as well.

He didn't like this.

He hated the smug expressions written on the alien duo's humanoid faces, as if they knew something that he didn't. He hated the malicious glint in their golden eyes. He hated the uneasiness sloshing around in the pit of his stomach as these two planned some mysterious but horrible fate to befall him and the others. Most of all, he hated knowing, that if they didn't do something fast, these two would be allowed to carry out that fate.

"Oh!" Tegon said, snapping his fingers, "I know the prefect solution. I could always have them destroy each other."

While the reviewers looked on with confusion, Devafen's eyes widened in outrage.

"Tegon!" she said, "Are you mad?! You can't possibly be suggesting using _that_ spell, are you? It could destroy you—or worse—if you're not careful!"

"I know that, Devafen," he replied sharply.

The catwoman bit her lip as the masked lizardman released Cinema Snob, and began to chant. His voice rang through the deathly still air with an ominous echo, amplified by the ancient voices of the universe itself. Thunder shook the ground below their feet as lighting streaked across the rapidly growing stormy sky, tinging the air with its coppery electrical scent.

The reviewers looked on, enthralled in the iron grip of awe and terror as they watched some of the Synthspectors near the chanting magician began to glow with an otherworldly light. That light grew brighter as it consumed the faceless creatures, mutating them into shimmering orbs of pure energy.

The orbs drifted through the air, coalescing into a larger ball of light that hovered above the spellcaster's outstretched hands. The light glinted and danced off of the man's mask, throwing deep, menacing shadows over his face as he lifted his hands.

Sweat poured down Snob's forehead as he watched as if immobilized by another magical spell. He could feel the evil aura contained within that ball of light, perverting and twisting what aura of good came into its field. It was a type of energy that should have never existed, he believed, and yet it did.

He tried to scream as Tegon brought the evil orb closer to the reviewer. But, it was to no avail, for it felt as if his voice had been lost to him; drown into the tormented screams of madness of this evil presence.

Futilely, he tried to struggle; to make one last bold effort to escape being eaten alive by this unwanted demonic spirit. The light hovered before him, hungrily staring through to his heart as it flew from its previous master's hands. Suddenly, he felt a burning chill, far colder and emptier than anything he could ever remember experiencing, worming its way through his chest, plunging him into an icy void of unconsciousness.

He was fortunate that the experience had rendered him unconscious, for one could be almost positive that no-one would have wanted to have been awake for what happened to him once the ball of energy had burrowed into him.

The evil aura burned like fire as it surrounded his body. Violent spasms, strong enough to possibly break bones, shook through his body like an earthquake. Slowly, he began to change, becoming a twisted demonic mockery of a shark that seemed vaguely humanoid.

At the same time, another witness to this horrific scene seemed to be unusually effected by it. At the sight of the evil orb of energy, Linkara's knees buckled underneath him as he fell to the ground, trembling uncontrollably, blind to the world around him.

Voices, whispered but loud, rang through his head, pounding against his skull. The sound was like roaring white noise in his ears. He couldn't comprehend the voices, nor could he identify them.

Sometimes, the voices sounded like Tegon, Devafen, and even Malachite. Other times, the voices were those of ancient strangers he had never met that existed in worlds yet unknown to him. And still, other times the voice he heard was his own.

Then another voice whispered through the sea of noise. This was the voice of a young girl; the girl whose spirit lived inside the Magic Gun, to be more specific. The voice of his partner; his friend.

She called for him, her voice growing clearer with each repeated iteration of his name. His senses latched onto that voice, allowing its bell-like quality to drown out the sea of endless noise that threatened to drown him.

_"Linkara…"_

"_Linkara…"_

"Linkara?"

The comic reviewer blinked in confusion as his senses returned to him. Spoony knelt down beside him, holding him by the shoulders as he gently tried to shake him out of his trance. Carefully, the gamer helped his friend to his feet, only letting go of the comic reviewer's shoulders when he was certain that he could stand on his own again.

"Dude, what the hell happened?" Spoony asked, "You just collapsed and started shaking like crazy, mumbling all this weird shit."

"Just a reaction to the spell," Linkara said between coughing gasps for air "I'll be fine."

Spoony arched a skeptical eyebrow, but chose not to reply. Something told him that there had to have been more to the incident than what Linkara had told him. But he also knew that, much like himself, Linkara could be incredibly stubborn at times, and worrying too much about him would not do any good. If Linkara wanted to share more about this incident, then he'd do it on his own terms, without Spoony's prying.

"So," Chick asked Critic, "We're surrounded by faceless creeps, Snob just got turned into a monster by a lizardman's spell, and Linkara just started talking in tongues for a minute. You think_ now_ is still a bad time to do that morphing thing, Oh Great and Fearless Leader?"

Critic ignored his female counterpart's snark as he looked down at his wrist. She had a point, he reasoned. As it was now, things had fallen so far off the edge of the _Twilight Zone,_ that none of them were sure that they could handle it without a little extra help.

But, another part of him nagged, would morphing actually help them? After all, they had no idea exactly what that spell had done to Snob. For all they knew, he could still be in there, completely conscious. If they killed him, that would be entirely their fault.

They didn't have a choice; the first part of his mind reminded him. After all, he had made a promise to himself, that he was never going to let Malachite or his cohorts get away with hurting any one else close to him. There were people counting on him to uphold that promise, he reminded himself: his brother, Ma-Ti, his friends, the world.

All of them were counting on him, and he wasn't about to let them down.

"Okay," he said, "Let's go."

At the same time, the five devices flickered to life as the reviewers held out their arms, readying their morphers.

"_Nexus Morph_," five voices shouted in unison, "_Activate!"_

Like a choreographed dance that the crew didn't remember ever rehearsing, the five made identical movements with their arms before bringing the devices close to them, typing in the appropriate key combination.

All at once, a brilliant flash of light shot from the morphers, showering them with a rush of energy. They felt like they had been transported outside of time and space itself. Light and data rushed past them at hyper speed as bits of energy crept into their bodies, infusing them with strength and speed. More laser-like lights scanned their bodies, glowing with their Ranger colors as it morphed their clothing into the white and colored body-suits that were to be the base of their new Ranger uniforms.

Yet more lights followed shortly after, as armor and other details appeared upon the suit. And a final series of beams crawled like spiders across their faces as their helmets materialized over them.

Before they realized it, it was over, and they rejoined the rest of time/space. But, they did not return exactly the same as they had before. Instead of five untrained geeks who'd had an unusual fate thrust upon them, there now stood five brave and noble warriors of peace and justice who had embraced their potential destiny.

Well, for a minute, anyways.

The five critics-turned-Rangers examined their new uniforms in amazement and disbelief. Admittedly, they were kind of surprised that the transformation had even worked half as well as it did. After all, Insano's inventions could sometimes be like playing Russian Roulette; sometimes they worked, and other times they didn't.

"Hmm…" Linkara said, analyzing his suit with uncertainty, "I like that the suits have a nice kind of tech-y feel to them. But, they kind of look a bit busy for Ranger suits."

"Who cares?" Chick replied, dismissively waving her hand, "I'm just glad that I don't have to fight in skirt."

"Oh yeah!" Spoony said, barely able to contain his excitement as he punched the air, "This must be what immortals in _Highlander_ feel like during a Quickening. I feel freaking invincible!"

"Easy there, Spoony," MarzGurl said, resting her hand on the gamer's shoulder to calm him down, "Save some of that for the bad-guys."

"Marz's right." Critic agreed, "We still have these dorks to take care of before we start patting ourselves on the back for how good we look. Everyone ready?"

The team nodded briefly before launching into a series of battle poses that they hoped would indicate to their would be attackers that they were not the type of force to be taken lightly. Admittedly, their movements felt almost as if guided by instinct as they proceeded with the roll call.

"Nexus Ranger Red!" Critic said, striking a fierce battle pose.

"Nexus Ranger Blue!" MarzGurl said, following suit with her own pose.

"Nexus Ranger Yellow!" Spoony said, as he too, struck his own battle pose.

"Nexus Ranger Green!" Linkara said, preparing himself for attack with yet another battle pose.

"Nexus Ranger Pink!" Chick said, finishing up the roll-call with her own pose.

The two interdimensional beings and their transmogrified cohort looked at each other with momentary shock and confusion. Malachite hadn't predicted that this could possibly happen, they thought. However, their shock was only momentary as they readied their weapons. A few flashy lights and a change of clothes weren't going to change anything.

A defiant cry rang through the town square as a battle erupted for the second time that day. The few remaining Synthspecators that had not been absorbed by Tegon's spell surrounded the Rangers as their leaders charged at the group.

However, this time, the reviewers were not depending entirely on pure luck to carry them through this battle. The morph had done more than just provide them with new outfits and increased energy. It had also had some sort of effect upon their neurological structures as well, increasing what knowledge they knew of martial arts and other self-defense techniques.

Snob let out a furious, beast-like growl as he swung at Critic and MarzGurl. Critic countered by landing a series of timed kicks upon him. While some of the kicks had hit successfully, Snob had managed to block one of them, pushing the Red Ranger away. However, this attack had given the Blue Ranger the time she needed to land a few punches on the reviewer-turned-monster.

Nearby, Spoony and Linkara squared off against Devafen and a handful of the remaining Synthspectors. It was almost like a well-choreographed dance as the two ducked and weaved around the attacking faceless mooks. The cat-woman, taking advantage of their distraction, hissed as she threw another round of exploding darts from her fingertips.

Smoke darkened the air, obscuring the two from her sight as the tiny bombs exploded in a flash of sparks and fire. She grinned to herself as she imagined the two men getting caught in that explosion. There was no way that they couldn't have gotten hit by at least one of those attacks, she thought.

Her grinned faded, replaced with disbelief as the Yellow and Green Rangers leapt through the rapidly clearing smoke, flying at her with a pair of twin flying punches. She grunted as she picked herself off the ground.

"So," she said, summoning her razor-claws "You wanna play like that, eh? Well, you're going to find out that this cat has some sharp claws!"

With another feral hiss, she charged at the gamer and the comic reviewer, wildly slashing at them with her claws. Sparks flew from the cuts in their suits as the two were sent sprawling backwards.

Meanwhile, Tegon had lured Chick just slightly away from the rest of the fight. The Pink Ranger silently breathed a word of thanks to her parents for making her take a couple gymnastics classes when she was a child as she cart-wheeled her way out of one of the lizardman's sword slashes. She countered by throwing herself at Tegon with a front-flip, kicking him in the chest as she landed.

Growling, the lizardman picked himself up, taking another swing at the female reviewer. Quickly, however, she rolled out of the way of yet another attack. The lizardman growled furiously as the Nostalgia Chick kept narrowly evading his attacks.

Once more, he attempted to strike her with his sword. However, this time, Chick, having grown annoyed with being at a slight disadvantage, had picked up a sharp spike-tipped piece of a fence that had been severed in half by Tegon's last attack. Deftly, she swung the iron bar at her attacker.

A loud clank of metal on metal rang sharply over the cries of battle as the iron bar impacted with Tegon's mask. The mask fell off of his face and onto the ground below with a clatter as Chick looked on, stunned. The iron pike that Chick had used had carved a rather vicious looking cut down half of his face. Blood flowed from between his fingers as he clutched the wound with his clawed hands, staining the concrete below with crimson.

"I'll make you pay for that, human!" Tegon roared furiously as he rushed at a very startled Nostalgia Chick, swinging his sword with reckless abandon.

Even with magical healing, they were both certain that it would leave a rather brutal looking scar. But, even if it hadn't, they were both more than positive that Tegon's fury with her wouldn't fade even after the scar had faded. How dare this insolent girl—this _human _girl—be allowed to possibly defeat him? How dare had she been able to elude him so many times, and yet manage to wound him?

Back with Critic and MarzGurl, sparks erupted from their suits as they were hit with exploding magical playing cards summoned by their transformed co-worker. A string of expletives escaped Critic's lips as he shakily got to his feet.

"Oh, I get it," MarzGurl said dryly as she dusted herself off "Playing cards; Card Shark. Haha, cute."

As the two resumed their battle poses, they soon found themselves being joined by their other three companions, who had been chased over toward the Red and Blue Rangers in order to regroup against their enemies.

Malachite's two generals and their monster companion too had regrouped, forcing the two dueling parties into a standoff. Their eyes were locked onto one another's like hawks centering in on the kill. They watched each others' movements, waiting for even the slightest clue to what their next move might be. Subtle signs of both parties growing fatigue began to manifest themselves; a slightly slouched positioning in their posture, the quick heaving of their chests as they gasped for air.

"We need to focus our attack on Snob," Critic said, "Maybe we can figure out how to break this spell on him."

"How?" Chick asked, "We don't even know exactly what that spell did to him. Outside of making him really strong, ugly and want to kill us, that is."

"I know," Critic replied, "But if we beat him, maybe he'll return to normal?"

"Or," Spoony countered, "We could end up killing him. We can't take that risk."

"We don't even know if Snob's still in there," MarzGurl said, "And if he is, we have no idea how much of him is tied up with this freaky spell thing."

"Well," Critic said, "We have to do _something_! We can't just let him stay like that. Unless any of you have any better plans."

"I'll contact Dr. Insano," Linkara said raising his wrist, "He and the others might be able to figure out something based on his energy patterns."

For what felt like the third time that day, the Rangers held their breaths, waiting for Insano to answer their call. As with the last time, the two skipped the formalities as the reviewers began to explain the situation to the mad-scientist.

A tense silence hung in the air between them as Insano frowned, a troubled expression etched into the corners of his mouth as he studied the readings, trying to make sense of the abnormal readings that appeared there.

_"It seems,"_ the mad scientist said, bringing up a few graphs for them, "_That there is some sort of energy field that's manipulating Snob's own energy. However, the distortion seems to be localized within a specific spot."_

"Like an energy core?" Spoony asked.

"That must have been that weird ball of light we saw," MarzGurl guessed.

"So," Critic said, "We just need to figure out how to destroy the spell's core, and Snob'll be back to normal, right?"

"_Exactly,"_ Insano replied, "…._We think."_

"Yeah," Chick said, crossing her arms, "But, need I remind you guys that Snob absorbed the spell-core? How are we supposed to destroy it without accidentally blowing Snob to smithereens as well?"

"_That shouldn't be a problem,"_ Insano replied, as a fox-like grin spread across his face, "_We figured that something like this was likely to happen, so we've been working on something that would manage to eliminate most of the spell-core. It's still untested, however, so we can't be sure how effective it'll be."_

"We don't have any other choice," Critic replied, "Send it in."

"_Alright,"_ Insano said reluctantly, "_I'll have Doctor Tease upload it to your morphers through the subspace transport. It'll probably take a little time, though."_

"That's okay," Critic said, "We'll try to keep him busy for a while. But, try to hurry it up, okay? We can't keep fighting these guys forever."

The mad-scientist said nothing as he disconnected from the call. The tiny screen that had just moments ago served as a visual link between dimensions, now displayed a progress meter that was slowly filling. Beside it, a numerical reading counted the current percentage of the weapon that had been uploaded. At the moment, Critic noted with dismay, the number was rather low and moving at a steady, but moderately slow pace. From what he could estimate, it'd probably take roughly two to three minutes before it fully uploaded.

Their enemies, having grown increasingly bored with waiting for the reviewer-rangers to attack, charged at the group, firing whatever projectiles that they could summon in the short distance across the concrete town square. A few of the blasts had hit, sending the reviewers slamming backwards into the wall of a brick building.

However, they quickly recovered and now also rushed at the villains. This time, instead of splitting up, they attacked as a team, circling Snob and his cohorts. Devafen and Tegon, as well as the few remaining Synthspectors rushed ahead of Snob, setting up a guard between him and the reviewers.

While their defense was effective from keeping all five from ganging up on Snob, it had not managed to block all attacks. If Devafen slashed at Critic with her claws, it'd give either Chick or Spoony the opportunity to sneak past, briefly engaging in combat with the shark-creature, before they were thrown out again, leaving MarzGurl or Linkara (provided that they weren't under another attack, themselves) the chance to tag in and land a free hit before Tegon or one of the Synthspectors noticed.

As he weaved past an attacking Synthspector, setting himself up to exchange a few blows with Snob, Critic looked down at his morpher. The progress bar now held at just a fingernail's width of fifty-percent.

_Only another minute_, he tried to reassure himself as he countered one of Snob's kicks with a rather brutal kick of his own, _only another minute._

That minute, it seemed, was a rather deceptively disguised miniature eternity, as the battle raged on. Sweat began to form up underneath their helmets and suits, uncomfortably reminding them of the strain this was starting to put on their enhanced forms. If that didn't remind them, the ache of bruises, cuts and burns surely would fill in the blanks.

They were lucky, they believed, that they were currently morphed. From their estimate, the battle had been raging on for twenty minutes, or longer, with no obvious winners to be determined. In their normal forms, they were untrained and not quite in the world's best shape. It would have been unlikely for them to even have lasted this long, they thought.

Finally, with a sigh of exalted relief, the remaining minute had passed, and the weapon was ready to be uploaded. The tricky part now, Critic realized, was figuring out what kind of weapon it was and how to use it.

The battle had driven the reviewers together, pushing them out of the circle that now was reshaping itself into a mob-like formation. The air in front of the reviewers began to shimmer and glow as Critic pressed a key on his morpher. With a flash, a large cannon materialized, hovering in the air before them as if to say "_Physics hasn't quite caught up to me just yet, but you better catch me when it does_".

Without really questioning it, the five gathered around the cannon, catching it as it floated to the ground. The device hummed with energy as it charged, drawing on the energies of those wielding it. Carefully, they aimed the device waiting for it to fully charge, as well as for the right opportunity to strike.

"Target locked on, and we're fully charged," Critic said, reading a monitor attached to the back of the cannon, "Standby to fire."

The other for nodded as they waited for the exact right moment for a clear shot. Within a matter of seconds, they found it as there was a momentary break in formation, leaving Snob vulnerable to attack.

"Fire!" Critic commanded as the five triggered the cannon.

Five orbs of fiery energy, one in each of the Rangers' colors, simultaneously barreled from the cannon with such force that it was all the reviewers could do to keep their feet planted firmly on the ground.

The villains, stunned by this massive collection of energy that merged into one larger ball of white-hot light, merely stood their eyes wide in shock as the orb collided with the monster-form of the Cinema Snob.

The shockwave that resulted from the explosion, however, did not allow the villains to stare dumbly for long, for it had blasted them off of them two feet into the air, and about six feet away from the impact zone.

Nervously, the reviewers held their breaths as the cannon's fire erupted. They hoped that whatever damages the explosion had done, that Snob had at least managed to survive it. Or at least that it left something of him behind once it cleared.

Much to their relief, the light faded, revealing their co-worker, once more as his normal self, collapsing onto the concrete below. Their anxiety no longer able to be contained, the five dismissed the cannon, and rushed to the fallen reviewer's side, forming a barrier around him, just as Tegon and Devafen began to stir again, recovering from the blast.

However, the barrier seemed unnecessary as that neither of the humanoids drew their weapons. Instead, they merely glared at the reviewers with a threatening gaze as they clutched their wounds.

"You may have won this battle, humans," Tegon said, his voice laced with acidic malice, "But that was just one victory. There will be other battles"

Devafen slashed the air with a glowing hand, ripping a glowing tear into the sky behind them. With one last reproachful glare, the catwoman and her lizard-like accomplice stepped through the rip in time-space.

"Yeah, that's right," Critic called after the retreating enemies, "you better start running. And tell that Harry Dresden cosplayer you call a leader that next time, if he wants to fight us, he better do it himself, instead of sending a bunch of two-bit minions."

However, his call fell upon empty air as the rip in time-space blinked out of existence, leaving only the five morphed reviewers and their unconscious friend in the empty town square.

"Critic, honey" Chick said, shaking her head, "If you're going to deliberately try to tempt fate like that, you mind not getting the rest of us involved, okay? Some of us here don't like the idea of getting dismembered."

Knowing that it was safe for them to let their guard down just slightly, the reviewers broke their man-made barrier as they allowed themselves to deal with their next pressing issue.

MarzGurl knelt beside Snob, carefully looking him over for even the faintest signs of life.

"Looks like he was just knocked out," she reported as she checked his pulse, "His breathing's normal, and his pulse is fairly strong."

"That's a good sign," Linkara replied, wiping some dust off of his helmet.

"We should find a portal and get back to the lab," Critic said.

Everyone nodded in agreement with this assessment, although they also agreed that said assessment was a foregone conclusion by this point and therefore hadn't really needed to have been said in the first place.

In fact, almost immediately following the villains retreat, Spoony had contacted the mad-scientists, and had now just finished a rather brief conversation regarding finding the location of the nearest portal.

The problem, as they saw it, was that their journey through this dimension had drawn them far away from their starting destination. And, even if there was another portal, there was a good chance that, considering they were going to practically carry Snob back, it'd take too long for them to make it back before it closed in on itself.

"Okay guys," Spoony said, "According to Insano and Professor Celluloid, finding a portal actually shouldn't be too difficult. They said that we could probably just use the residual energy from the rift in space-time that the enemies made to open a one-way gate back to the lab."

"That's great," Linkara replied, "but, wouldn't reopening that particular distortion just open a wormhole directly back to Malachite's dimension instead? Or at the very least take us somewhere completely random?"

"Eh," the gamer shrugged, "The rules of time-space are really screwed up. Insano and the others apparently have it all figured out, though. I'm just going with it."

"Fair enough," the comic reviewer agreed, also giving a half-hearted shrug.

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Linkara wanted to do at that moment but get out of this dimension as quickly as possible. The entire experience with Tegon's spell had kind of left a peculiar edgy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

What exactly about the spell, he wondered, had triggered that reaction in him?

Naturally, he assumed that it had to do something with him having some magical capabilities. But, he argued he'd dealt with other magic users before, and not once had any of their spells ever made him freak out like that. What kind of magic was that, anyways? He wondered as he suppressed a shudder.

Whatever it was, he reasoned, he certainly wasn't going to find out anything by standing around in this dimension. Perhaps he'd browse through the lab's libraries and computer archives later and try to find something that might give him some sort of insight into the complete nature of that spell.

The wind began to swirl as a bright flash of light heralded the opening of their portal back. With a twinge, the burning ache of fatigue caught up with his muscles, reminding him that the battle he had just fought had been rougher on him than he had previously thought.

For now, he thought as he wearily dragged himself through the glowing wormhole, any research on this spell was going to have to be put on the back burner until later. At that moment, he thought as he rubbed aching shoulders, he was in search of two things: a hot shower and a long nap.

* * *

><p>The walls of Malachite's palace shook, stirring up ancient layers of dust, as Tegon and Devafen's agonized shrieks reverberated through the darkened corridors.<p>

As they had expected, the dark sorcerer was none too pleased with their recent failure. Soon, their screams died down, replaced with softer, more pained whimpers and the sizzling crackle of electricity.

"Lord Malachite," Tegon replied, "Please forgive us. We had no idea that they would be able to counter the transmutation spell."

"And," Devafen added, chuckling weakly, "You know the old saying, '_He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day._'"

Malachite did not respond, but only continued to stare at the catwoman with a stony expression. Involuntarily, she shrank back, as she imagined the penetrating thousand-yard stare that lay concealed behind the dark pair of sunglasses that seemed permanently affixed to his face.

Sometimes, she wondered what kind of eyes lay behind that obsidian visor. Did they hold a certain kindness and humanity in them, some trace of his days before his immortality-born insanity?

Did a small part of him ever regret his course of action? Did a small part of him ever wonder if things might have ended differently between him and Aeon had the thorny vines of mistrust and jealousy not wrapped themselves around them all those centuries ago? Would the world have been a better place if magic and technology had been allowed to co-exist with one another? Did part of him ever hate himself for all the lives he'd ended and people he'd hurt in his quest for a twisted dream that had consumed him?

Did he ever feel like perhaps what he had become wasn't the real him at all, like some dark twisted entity had hi-jacked his body, molding him into the loathsome creature hellbent on revenge that everyone feared?

No, the catwoman shook her head; his hidden eyes were probably just as empty as the rest of his icy demeanor. Or at best, she reasoned, they burned with a manic, feverish light that could only come from centuries of immortality and insanity.

If there was still some humanity in him, then he might not be as harsh toward them for their failure.

"You make excuses," Malachite said, his rasping voice an even, unbroken monotone, "But, that doesn't change the fact that you still let them get away."

A hollow clicking echoed through the room as Malachite's staff tapped against the stone floor with each pacing footstep. The two humanoids could feel the blood in their veins freeze as their eyes nervously followed him, waiting for the sorcerer to decide their punishment.

However, that punishment did not come. For at that moment, a quiet pattering of footsteps echoed gently across the stone floor.

"Mama?" A small voice called out uncertainly as the young catboy known as Cayatan stepped into the room.

The corners of Malachite's lips twitched with a vague sense of displeasure as he watched the catboy, seemingly oblivious to the events that were transpiring within the sorcerer's throne room, run across the room to hug his mother.

"Fortunately for you," Malachite sighed reluctantly, as he turned his back to them, "I still find you and Tegon useful to me. Otherwise, I might have obliterated you after your first failure."

Tegon and Devafen exchanged glances of pure confusion as the sorcerer settled onto his throne. Neither one of them could deny that Malachite suddenly deciding to let them off easy was not more than a little unusual. Was there something about Cayatan's appearance that'd caused him to change his mind?

Perhaps, they reasoned, Malachite didn't want to kill them while there were children present, or something. However, neither one of them felt up to questioning the motives of their leader, especially if said motives allowed them to live, so they chose to not say anything.

"My Lord," Tegon asked, "Assuming that they'll inevitably try again in the near future, shouldn't we prepare a new strategy?"

"Using the transmutation spell to unwittingly turn the captives against their rescuers was a good move, Tegon," Malachite smirked, "Perhaps, though; we might be able to change things a little more?"

The last words hung in the air with a certain punctuated emphasis that suggested to even the most causal listener that a secretive hint or in-joke had just been uttered. What that hint was, only Malachite, Devafen and Tegon seemed to understand as the three shared a sly grin with one another.

Next time, they thought, The Rangers were in for some big trouble.

* * *

><p>A jubilant mood permeated through the cool night air as the reviewers and mad scientists gathered in the city to celebrate the success of their first mission. The spicy smell of cooking food and idle ambience seemed all the more welcoming to them, knowing how close they had come to not surviving.<p>

A thin smile came across Spoony's lips as he listened to an overly animated (and possibly slightly buzzed) Nostalgia Critic recount their encounter with Malachite's forces to a very interested Professor Celluloid, while Chick constantly attempted to provide a less skewed version of the story.

At another table, Linkara and Insano were locked in a deadly battle of wits and strength for the fate of mankind (which looked suspiciously like an inexplicable arm-wrestling match), while MarzGurl and SOI cheered them on. Doctor Tease sat between the two duelists, presiding over the match as referee.

_I guess that leaves me as the odd man out_, the gamer thought as he downed the remains of his soda, slamming the glass on the table with a soft clink of glass on metal.

Once more, he felt the heavy weight of homesickness and loneliness push back into his mind. And once more, he scowled, staring down at the quickly melting cubes of ice floating in a shallow pool of left over soda, as he fought to drive this unwanted feeling away.

Everything seemed to mock him, he thought as the little gremlin tried to make a nest in his already heavy heart. The cheerful glow of the city-lights? The warm ambience of idle chatter? It all reminded him very much of home. And yet, everything was distinctly alien and unfamiliar to him, reminding him that this was not his Earth.

This unfamiliarity, he knew, would never fade, even if he were to spend years walking every square inch of this dimension, memorizing it down to the very tiniest cracks on the floors.

This wasn't home, everything seemed to remind him.

It would never feel like home.

"I was informed by Doctor Insano that you were usually the life of a party," A soft-spoken female voice spoke from beside him, causing the startled gamer to nearly fall out of his chair as Nurse materialized into the empty chair beside him, "Perhaps I was misinformed?"

Once he recovered however, a despondent frown darkened Spoony's expression. However, before either could say anything further, another hologram, this one in the form of a waiter, appeared, refilling the empty glass of soda in the gamer's hands.

"…Don't feel much like partying," Spoony said, avoiding eye contact with the female hologram as he took a drink from the now refilled glass.

Nurse, seemingly unphased by the cold, invisible barrier of aloofness, continued to attempt small-talk with the brooding, dark-haired gamer.

"I understand that you and Linkara visited the robotics lab shortly after being released from the infirmary," she said, "How are repairs progressing?"

"Everything's great," Spoony replied, "We finished repairs to Burton and Pollo, and Linkara got Nimue's voice operational again."

"And yourself?" she asked, "I'm assuming that you're recovering well?"

"I'm alright," Spoony replied, "Still a little tired and sore, and that nanospray stuff you used to repair our cuts still kind of stings a little bit, though."

"Nanospray kind of has that effect on human flesh," Nurse said, the faintest traces of a smile appearing on her lips, "But, at least it lets you know that it's working."

Another thin, weary semblance of a smile spread across Spoony's lips as a small half-chuckle escaped from him. However, no sooner had it seemed as if the iron wall of tension was beginning to wear down, did another awkward silence repair it.

This silence, however, was short lived as Spoony sighed, briefly looking up from his glass. The awkward tension between them, however, did not vanish along with this silence.

"It sucks that you guys had to put Snob in stasis because of the residual effects of the spell-core." Spoony said.

"Sorry about that," Nurse apologized, "But we already explained to you why we had to it."

It was too much of a security risk, Spoony sighed as he remembered Doctor Insano and the others explaining this to them before. Even though the cannon had managed to destroy the spell-core, fragments of its energy dug its claws into Snob's spirit.

Unfortunately, neither Nurse nor the mad scientists were able to come up with an effective way to safely remove these fragments without potentially hurting Snob. However, their efforts were not completely wasted, as that they had managed to find a way to make it less likely that he should completely lose control should something re-trigger a transformation.

But, just as one point of good news presented itself, another moment of bad news entered to quash their hopes. While the spell's effects may have been somewhat neutralized, the connection that still existed between the spell and its caster. Whether either Tegon or Malachite were fully aware of this was difficult for them to determine.

It wasn't like Snob hadn't had any say on this decision, Spoony tried to remind himself. In fact, Snob himself had agreed to be put into stasis, once the suggestion had been made.

"_Listen,"_ he recalled Snob saying when they had tried to protest, "_If this spell has half the influence over me as you're saying it does, then couldn't they be using me as some sort of spy or sleeper agent, or something, and I not even realize it? Isn't it kind of dangerous for me to be walking around conscious like this, at least until you guys can figure out how to break connection?"_

Of course, Spoony reasoned, he couldn't argue with that. But still, he sighed as he tried to change the subject of his thoughts, it would have been a little nice to have someone else around the base; someone not tied to any Ranger business.

Someone normal (or as normal as one could be after having come back from being transformed into a monster) that they could just talk with, and maybe—for a minute—forget about their war against the sorcerer, and could pretend that they were home, without the reminder that things were different.

"…Still kind of wished we could have waited a bit before doing it, though." Spoony mumbled disappointedly under his breath as a final comment on his dissent for the situation.

Nurse flashed him a quiet smile as she consolingly patted his shoulder.

For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Spoony dared to make eye contact with the holographic humanoid. Like a terrified child in a thunderstorm, Spoony's green eyes were wide, glimmering with an uncertain and frightened light.

"Nurse?" Spoony asked, now trying his hardest not to look away from her.

"Yes, Spoony?" Nurse asked; her voice calm and evenly measured.

"Do you," he asked quietly, almost embarrassed to ask the question, "ever feel like you're alone?"

"There are times," Nurse replied, "When I detect no other presences in the vicinity of my current location, yes."

"I meant; do you ever feel lonely? Do you ever feel afraid?"

If his eyes asked questions and sought comfort, then Nurse's own, artificially projected eyes provided no answers or solace. Only the faintest shadows of human-like emotions flickered in that soulless, hollow cobalt void, reminding them that she was but a machine, masquerading under the illusion of being human.

"I was programmed to display a pre-determined set of basic emotions, depending on any given situation," she replied, "Fear and loneliness are not part of that programmed set."

_Of course they're not,_ Spoony sighed as he once more found himself staring down dejectedly at the table.

"Perhaps it would be better to ask another human?" Nurse suggested, "It's more likely that being human, they would also be capable of experiencing loneliness."

Wearily, the gamer ran a hand through his dark hair as he stood up, joining the others, who all now enthusiastically absorbed in the intense arm-wrestling duel between the comic book reviewer and his former arch-nemesis.

"I wish it were as simple as you make it sound," he said wistfully, giving the hologram a weak half-smile over his shoulder.

His words however, were drowned out by the thunderous eruption of cheering as the match between Insano and Linkara had finally chosen a victor.

The defeated comic reviewer face-planted on the table, staring up at the mad scientist with a dazed disbelief.

"H-how?" he moaned, in an over-the-top way that suggested he was more baffled than upset at his loss, "How'd you get so strong?!"

"Ha!" Insano grinned, "I have fists of iron!"

"Riki-tee!" SOI cheerfully chirped as he bounced in place.

"Oh right," Insano added, translating for his son, "and SCIENCE!"

"Aw," Chick sulked, "I was so betting on Linkara winning."

"I told you guys you should have bet on Insano," Critic said smugly, "I mean, you saw him fight me in Kickassia, didn't you?"

"But wasn't it really Spoony you were fighting the whole time," MarzGurl asked, "He was like temporarily possessed by some version of Insano or something?"

Critic shrugged, not really wanting to bother with an attempt at figuring out any of Insano's already muddled origins.

The least they could figure out was that their version of their mad-scientist mentor, the one that was Linksano's brother and was usually one of Spoony's housemates, was the dimension-hopping one from an alternate Earth. Any other "versions" they all agreed to chalk up to alternate realities or some sorts of experiments with science that they simply didn't want to even begin to comprehend.

Any hard feelings that might have arose between the two former arch-nemeses was quickly dispelled as the two shook hands, and relaxed friendly chatter once more fell over the crowded table.

Critic raised his glass in the air, as he called for a toast. A warmth, having little to do with the alcohol he had consumed, welled up in the pit of his stomach as he looked out over the table to the group that surrounded him.

While they all might not have the best history between them, nor were they always able to get along too well, at that moment, the Red Ranger couldn't have thought of anyone else he'd rather have fighting beside him than them.

"I propose a toast," Critic said, his voice just barely edging on the overly-hammy tone that he typically seemed to save for giving his usual rousing speeches "A toast to good friends and loyal allies. A toast to knowing that we've thrown ourselves into the fire once and survived. While the next battles may get more difficult, we know that we will always emerge triumphant, for together, my friends, we are strong enough to face any evil that may cross our paths. A toast to ourselves, and to each other. A toast to Project Nexus."

Everyone now followed suit with the reviewer and Red Ranger, hoisting their own glasses high into the air. Much like him, the others agreed that of all the people they could have had on their side at that moment, there were few others that they'd rather have than the Nostalgia Critic.

"To Project Nexus."

* * *

><p><em>(Inspired a bit by Michelle the Editor, I decided to add a bit of trivia every so often to the end of chapters.)<em>

_Trivia 1_: Originally, the "diversion scene" in this chapter was going to be Chick and Spoony doing a comedic "psychic/magic act" routine. But, I thought that Chick and Linkara's lounge-singing act was more appropriate for the setting.

_Trivia 2_: The imaginary Sentai "adaptation" for this story is _Kasougenjitsu Sentai Tekanger _(Very roughly translated: _Virtual Reality Sentai Tekanger_).

_Trivia 3_: The "Crimson Fog Nightmare" that I make near-constant reference to in the Prologue was partially inspired by an actual nightmare I had a couple years back.


	4. Chapter 3: Trouble on The High Seas

_Disclaimer/Authors Notes: See Prologue for Disclaimer. Thanks again to everyone who's been reading and/or reviewing this story and generally being patient with my excessively slow update schedule. As always, any form of constructive critique is welcomed and appreciated. _

_Also, special thanks to the wonderful EsaEnai, who (as of next chapter) will be joining in this as a co-writer, and hopefully helping me stay a little more focused on my update schedule. I also strongly recommend you check out her fic:_ _**It's Kind of a Funny Story**_(_another TGWTG fic co-written between her and myself)_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 3:<strong>__** Trouble on the High Seas**_

Wherever he was, it wasn't any version of Earth he'd ever known.

That was the only thing Critic could think as his eyes took in the scene around him. It looked like the world he'd known, but everything seemed oddly muted, as if someone had messed with the brightness/contrast setting on a TV. It felt as if none of his senses outside of sight and sound existed here. And, even his sense of sound had been altered. He could hear the sound of wind rustling through leaves and grass, and the steady beating of waves crashing against the shore, but it seemed as if all other sounds had been lost to him.

That was to say, more specifically, he felt as if he could no longer hear his own heartbeat beating wildly like a drum in his chest. The waving of the grass below him suggested that there was some sort of wind stirring it, but he could not feel it against his skin. In fact, he noticed with only a vague sense of surprise, he felt a sense of weightlessness about himself.

Was this what being dead felt like? He wondered as he soundlessly stepped through the open field. Was this non-existence? And if it wasn't, what _was _it? Was it a dream? Where was he?

Like a moth to a flame, his senses seemed almost drawn to the forest that lay ahead. Shadows, thick and seemingly impenetrable, crawled in the spaces between the gnarled trees and their twisted, claw-like branches.

_Don't go in there_, every reasonable synapse in his brain screamed at him,_ Turn away and run. Nothing good could possibly be lurking in a place that looks that spooky. _

_ No,_ a small but powerful voice in him countered, _you have to go in there. _

His feet felt like lead, fighting against the compelling voice's spell, holding him in place just at the edge of the forest's grasp. His heart, still unheard by his ears, beat frantically as the shadows started to shift as if something had suddenly been brought to life by some form of dark magic.

He should have been terrified, he thought. This should have been the part where he shrieked himself hoarse as he flailed about in his mad attempt to high-tail it for the horizon. And yet, that small, familiar voice in his head urged him forward, assuring him that whatever this was, it was not going to harm him.

Without warning, the shadows began to move faster, thrashing about in frenzy, like a giant, angry tentacled sea-beast from ancient legends. Voices, otherworldly but somehow vaguely familiar whispered his name in a chorus from somewhere in the ever shifting depths.

Crying out loudest amongst the swirling chorus of noise, he heard two familiar voices; the voice of Ma-Ti and the voice of Malachite.

It was then that the sense of fear had also decided to return to him, shooting through his veins like an erupting geyser of icy-cold terror. All at once, his voice returned to him, allowing him unleash an unearthly, high-pitch shriek that would have shattered glass, had there been any around. His limbs, however, had not yet gotten the message to flee, and remained rooted to the spot as the shapeless blob of shadows grew, threatening to engulf him in their grasp.

Something shimmered within the heart of this dark beast, drawing Critic's eyes upon it. Upon closer inspection, the reviewer noticed that the light appeared to be some sort of magical seal. Three pinpoints of light, one a violet-red, another in blue-green, and a third in a yellow-orange shade, glimmered like distant stars, beckoning the Critic into the chaos.

As if compelled by some outside force, his hand slowly reached out toward the wavering mass. In response, one of the shadow's massive tendrils' whipped toward him with lightning-quick speed. A sudden coldness shot through his body like a thousand daggers as the shadow wrapped itself tightly around his wrists, pulling him deeper into the infinite void.

He screamed, trying to struggle against the grip of the void. But his struggle was in vain, as the darkness grew heavy around him, filling his lungs and choking out all escaping sound.

And then, it was over.

With a startled gasp, he awoke, finding himself in an empty city street. Or at least he thought it was empty, until he heard the whistling of a knife being tossed through the air, forcing him to throw himself out of the way.

Stars flashed in his vision as he crashed hard into something beside him, pulling it to the ground with him. A loud crack of thunder echoed from somewhere above him, followed shortly by a gurgling scream as the knife-thrower hit the ground with a thud.

Now that he seemed to be out of immediate danger, the reviewer shakily tried to stand and regain a sense of composure. Had he somehow blacked out in the middle of battle, he wondered. How long had he been out?

However, he had no time to think about this as a muffled yelp emitted from somewhere near him. Blinking, he looked down, only to find Spoony now lying on the ground, his face firmly planted into the concrete where Critic accidentally tackled him.

"Hey!" the gamer shouted as he pulled himself back onto his feet again, "You mind watching what you're doing? Some of us don't really enjoy having our heads busted open on the concrete."

"Sorry," Critic replied, trying to cover up his confusion with snarkiness, "I'm guessing you would have rather been stabbed in the face, then?"

"It wasn't anywhere near me!" Spoony shot back, "Of course, you would have known that if you hadn't zoned out."

"And I wouldn't have knocked you down," Critic said heatedly, "If you hadn't been in my way."

At this, Spoony's eyes became wide and his tightly clenched fists shook slightly, fighting a losing battle to keep himself from slugging his fellow reviewer across the face.

"_What did you say?!_" Spoony growled under his breath, glaring at Critic.

If Critic had been any other type of person—such as 'normal' or 'sane'—it would have been there that he would have taken this as a sign to take a few steps back.

However, the reviewer seemed to be feeling particularly brazen at that moment that he seemed not to be paying attention to the fact that the gamer's expression was starting to resemble that of a rabid dog.

"I said, 'You're standing in my spot,'" Critic repeated, grinning slyly, "_sir_."

"Okay that's it," Spoony shouted, grabbing Critic by the collar of his shirt, "You and me; right here, right now! I will kick your sorry tie-wearing ass up and down this dimension so hard that you'll—"

"Hey!" Linkara called from a nearby ledge, "Hate to break up your obviously friendly and non-violent discourse, but we're here for a reason, you know."

"Right," Critic said, "We'll meet up with Marz and Chick in the center of town, and prepare to clear out the rest of our enemies."

Grumbling under his breath, the gamer let go of Critic, giving him a very icy, dagger like glare behind his back as he followed Critic and Linkara down the street. However, their journey was not long, for they soon heard a distant rumbling, like thunder, rapidly growing louder with each passing second.

Within seconds, the source of the rumbling presented itself in the form of a large crowd of zombiefied humans, seeming to move at a pace that was, while astoundingly quick for the shambling ex-humans, still seemed kind of slow and lumbering. At the head of this crowd, Chick and MarzGurl ran at top speed, trying to avoid being trampled by the hoard.

Chick, armed with a crossbow, fired a few bolts into the zombie crowd as she tried to cover MarzGurl's back.

"Heads up, guys!" MarzGurl called as she flew by the three confused male reviewers, "We've rounded up the last of the enemies, as ordered!"

"Zombies?!" Critic asked bewildered as Chick rushed by him, grabbing him by his tie as she dragged him behind the shell of a burnt out car, "I don't remember there being zombies! Why are there zombies?!"

"Beats the hell out of me," Chick said as she fired a few more crossbow bolts into a zombie's head, "Marz accidentally pissed off the leader of this street-gang we were fighting, and then poof! They turned into rage zombies."

"'…._And then John was a zombie,_'" Spoony snarked, quoting a line from an infamous fanfic he'd heard of.

"And here I thought," Chick remarked casually, "That Spoony'd be the one to piss off the undead."

"Seriously though; fucking zombies?" Critic asked over two sharp cracks of Linkara's magic blasts, taking out another zombie "Really? You think we could have gone with something that's not so played out by now?"

"Ah come on Critic," Spoony winked slyly as he rested what appeared to be a large battle hammer on his shoulder, "What are you worried about? That they won't try to eat your brain, 'cause you don't have one?"

Without waiting for a reply, Spoony charged into the group of zombies, smashing the battle-hammer into the rotting face of one of them, just as MarzGurl slashed at another two with a pair of hand axes.

Critic, not one to want to sit a battle out, took advantage of the combined chaos that Chick and Linkara's weapons were making alongside Spoony and MarzGurl's melee brawling, and rushed into the fray, screaming wildly as he hacked at a third zombie with a sword.

Within minutes, the shambling horde had been dispatched and lay scattered across the ground. Slightly exhausted, the five Rangers regrouped to admire their handiwork. For not having very much fighting experience, and even less experience with fighting with weapons, they were pretty proud that they had managed to make short work of the bumbling undead creatures.

However, this did not last very long as the fallen creatures began to twitch, crawling toward each other in a way that caused the five Rangers to ready their weapons. A grating moan, like nails on a chalkboard, echoed from the creatures as they slowly began shifting in appearance, morphing into a giant, amorphous blob. The critics couldn't help but squirm uncomfortably as the giant mass began to take shape, this time forming into a 30-story tall version of the zombified creatures they'd fought only moments ago.

"Holy shi—"MarzGurl started to shout as she looked up at the towering, dead eyed figure, "That thing's frickin' _huge_! How are we supposed to fight that thing?!"

"Watch out, guys!" Linkara said as the creature lurched forward, "Here it comes!"

The last of his words were no sooner out of his mouth before the creature brought down a massive foot into the space just inches away from them, causing the five to scatter like bugs in the presence of a light to avoid being hit.

"Alright guys," Critic called to the others as he picked himself up off the ground again, "I think it's time to morph."

Nodding in agreement, the five started to reach for their morphers. But, no sooner had they started to even tap the first key in the morphing sequence, did reality around them suddenly dissolve, replacing the abandoned city street with the metal panel walls of the lab's training room.

"I think that we've got enough data from this session today," Doctor Insano said as the door to the room slid open with a soft rush of air. The reviewers, now allowed to let their guard down, collapsed on the ground in exhaustion.

"So, what was with the zombies?" MarzGurl asked as she shakily tried to get back on her feet, "Kind of a weird twist for a run-of-the-mill street brawl isn't it?"

"Oh," Insano grinned, drumming his fingers together as the group followed him out of the room "Did you like that? I programmed that as a little 'easter egg', so to speak. I figured that if we're conducting battle simulations, might as well have a little fun with it, eh?"

"And that ginormous zombie that tried to crush us with its toes?" Critic asked as they entered the command center, "Was that part of the 'easter egg' too?"

"Seriously," Chick added, "What was that? Unless these morphing gizmos have a function on here that can turn us into 100-foot tall titans, there's no way we can fight something that big."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Insano giggled, "That's part of another procedure. Once we get that project out of the development stage, defeating giants like that will be no problem at all. Oh, by the way; Linkara, -Celluloid wanted you to meet him in the robotics lab. He wants to get Nimue connected to the communications mainframe."

With that, the mad scientist dismissed them, allowing them to go their separate ways. Critic started to leave, his mind now allowed to drift back to his previous thoughts, before he felt a hand on his shoulder, jolting him from his silent reverie.

"Could I talk to you, Critic?" Insano asked, pulling the confused and startled man aside.

"Okay," Critic replied slowly, "Sure, go ahead…."

The mad scientist did not reply immediately, instead choosing to fidget with his goggles, as if uncertain how to begin the conversation.

"Well," he said, after a pause, "We noticed a severe drop in your concentration levels during the training exercise. Actually, it was more than a just a drop—it was more like you were completely comatose, except for the fact you were still standing. Of course, it was only few seconds, so it could have been an error in our readings…."

"Look," Critic said, rolling his eyes, "I just dozed off for one second-"

"-You're worried about him, aren't you? Your brother, that is."

Curiously, he quirked an eyebrow at the goggled mad scientist, wondering exactly how he had known about that. After all, he hadn't exactly told anybody about anything that had happened after Insano had contacted them initially.

"When we tracked you initially," Insano explained, "We started picking up a second reading traveling with you that never made it to the portal. I assume this was your brother, right?"

Critic nodded as he felt a weight, like icy lead, drop in the pit of his stomach, making him lower his eyes, staring almost focused at his feet. Insano's words, though simple, felt like a slap by a cold hand across the reviewer's face. He didn't need to be reminded that The Other Guy had gotten attacked by Synthspectors. He didn't need to be reminded that he would have been there with him, had Critic fought to save him, instead of fleeing like a coward.

"Yeah," Critic replied, with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "Well, you'd be a wreck too if it was your brother that they'd kidnapped and done god knows what else to."

The shaggy haired mad-scientist's fists shook slightly as he hid them in the cuffs of his labcoat. His lips moved silently as if he were a fish stranded on land gasping as its lungs filled with burning oxygen.

"Er…"he cleared his throat after a long pause, "Listen, you'd better try to get some rest. Or try to have Nurse examine you or something. You and the others have a mission coming up soon, you know. I was hoping to get an actual field test some of the things that the others and I have been working on."

The reviewer let out an annoyed sigh as he watched the mad scientist disappear down the hallway. Was that really it? Was that all that Insano had pulled him aside for? Just to tell him to get some rest? That was kind of odd, Critic thought. Usually, the mad scientist was prone to rambling on just about anything when given the opportunity, without any hesitation. So why now did he suddenly feel the need to suddenly be so distant and restrained?

Was he really that hard to talk to? Sure, he could get a little loud and had a small tendency to fly off the handle when provoked. And sure, that was nearly all the time, but it wasn't his fault that other people were annoyingly stupid sometimes. But, that didn't mean that people were afraid to talk to him, right?

* * *

><p>Hours later and Critic had managed to push his earlier concerns to the back of his mind. Of course, he reasoned, it was a lot easier to not let it bother him when he was more focused on making sure that the contents of his stomach didn't get dumped into the ocean like so much chemical run-off from a factory.<p>

The large wooden pirate ship slowly rocked forward as another volley of waves, stirred by a gentle breeze, pounded against the ship's sides. Critic groaned inwardly as he scrambled to keep his footing on the deck. Unfortunately, this gesture did little favors for his nauseous stomach.

"Why'd Insano choose this dimension to run field tests in?" Critic wondered aloud, "Couldn't he have dropped us off on dry land or something? Anywhere where I'm not about to see lunch come up in reverse would have been nice."

Chick, seemingly immune to sea-sickness, rolled her eyes as she gripped the ship's cog-like steering wheel, slowly trying to guide it safely to land. Although he was still somewhat woozy from the rocking motion of the sea, Critic couldn't help but vaguely register that Chick piloting the ship was just a little odd. He might have only known her for a few short years, but he was pretty sure that not once had she ever mentioned being capable of manually steering an eighteenth century pirate ship before.

"So," Critic asked, slumping down onto a nearby bench, nursing his queasy stomach, "Where'd you learn to steer this thing anyways? What, were they offering 'Eighteenth Century Ships 101' at the university or something?"

"I don't really know," Chick replied, still focused on navigating the ship, "It's kind of like I just sort of knew what I was doing after I put on the disguise y'know? I guess that those morphing devices that the doctors made are programmed with certain skills based on whatever dimensions we're running around in."

"Uh guys," MarzGurl said, as she entered the room, "How much longer do you think it's going to be until we hit land?"

"According to this map," Critic replied, checking the map on his morpher, "There's a port town about forty or so miles nearby. With the speed were currently going, I guess we'll probably hit it in a little over an hour."

"Thank god," the purple haired reviewer sighed, "'Cause, Spoony and Linkara are starting to lose it, like big time. I think the sea air and this dimension's starting to get to them."

"How so?" Chick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Like both of them are acting like they think they're Jack Sparrow," MarzGurl replied, "Last I saw of them, they were rambling on about peanuts and rum. At least I'm _hoping_ that's what they were going on about."

Chick opened her mouth to speak, but promptly found herself cut off as a loud, thundering crash echoed from somewhere behind them, forcing the three reviewers to jump as they quickly spun around.

Their startled expressions melted into bemused smiles as they saw their two other fellow Rangers among a mess of toppled barrels and crates.

"Ahoy there," Spoony grinned wolfishly as he and Linkara staggered out of the mess, "how it goin', cap'n?"

"Remind me," Critic said under his breath to MarzGurl, "to keep the two of them away from the rum while we're here. If they're acting this stupid while sober, I don't even want to imagine them drunk."

"Ah, lighten up a little, Cap'n" Linkara, also speaking with a slurred, stereo-typical cockney accent, "If we're goin' ta be round here for a while, might as well 'ave some fun while we're at it."

"Haven't you ever role-played before?" Spoony added, "I mean, if you're gonna look the part, might as well act it, too. Like they say; 'When in Rome…'"

"Yeah," Critic scoffed, "Well, last time I checked, Rome didn't look like the set of _Cutthroat Island_. Seriously, save the Blackbeard the Pirate bullshit for when we get to land. Bad enough I'm getting seasick around here. We don't need you two acting like a bunch of dorks on top of that."

The two practicing pirates groaned in disappointment as they slumped their shoulders. So much for having a little fun, they sighed.

"So," Linkara asked, now speaking with his normal accent, "What's the mission, anyways? Insano left you with the mission brief, right?"

Spoony grumbled something under his breath that was unheard by Critic, but earned him a swift jab in the rib by MarzGurl, who glared at him with a dagger-sharp glare.

"Well," Critic began, checking his morpher, "We're supposed to be doing a field test on a function with our morphers that'll be able to locate Synthspectors, even if they're disguised."

"Wait," Chick asked, "I thought that they said that there wasn't anyone being held here. So, why are those creepy masked guys hanging around?"

"Beats me," Critic shrugged, "I'm guessing that they just want to keep their bases covered or something. Besides, the only thing the doctors said was that they weren't detecting anything. Doesn't mean that there might not be someone here. If there is, we'll just track them down and bring them back with us."

"That is," Spoony said, "If lizard mouth and the cat ears don't show up and do that mystical voodoo shit like last time. Knowing our luck, they'd probably turn someone into a kraken or something."

Linkara shuddered as he recalled the previous encounter with Tegon's spell. Critic gave a quick, sympathetic look toward the comic reviewer. He remembered the younger man collapsing on the ground, quivering as if he were freezing, mumbling like a madman in a language that one was sure not even its speaker truly knew. The reviewer just hoped that whatever had caused that, it wouldn't happen again.

* * *

><p>The rest of the trip was rather quiet as the ship slowly sailed along toward the shoreline. The mid-afternoon sun beat heavily down upon the deck as the first traces of civilization appear on the horizon. At first, it almost seemed like a mirage to the weary crew. But slowly, the outlines of ships and buildings started to come into focus, much to their relief.<p>

In a matter of minutes, the ship was docked, and the Rangers climbed out. Around them, the scent of spices from far off lands mingled with the scent of metal, gunpowder and sweat as floods of people, all of them looking like the last people one would want to mess with in a dark alleyway, shuffled around, loading and unloading various wooden crates and dusty burlap bags to and from the other ships.

"Geez," Chick coughed, wrinkling her nose in disgust, "You'd think that these guys would have learned to take a shower every now and then. God, like throw themselves into the harbor every once in a while y'know?"

"I'm pretty sure," Spoony snarked, "That's probably how these guys keep themselves alive around here. Nobody in their right mind would want to get close enough to knife a guy smelling like Satan's shit."

"….And that's why they started using guns," Chick replied dryly.

"So," MarzGurl asked, her eyes scanning the horizon, "We're here. What's the next step?"

"I think we should split up," Critic replied, "Marz, Linkara and I will take the eastern half of town…."

However, the rest of his orders were cut off as Spoony started shaking his head, as if he believed that Critic were asking them to jump off of a ledge into a pit of sharp spikes, rather than split up.

"Whoa," Spoony said, "Hang on a damn second."

Critic rolled his eyes, exhaling with an annoyed huff. Seriously, he wondered, had there been one minute since they'd become Rangers that the gamer _hadn't _had some problem with his plans?

"What is it?" Critic sighed.

"Splitting up the team?" Spoony said, "Dude, that's a bad idea: Like, a seriously bad one."

"Oh really?" Critic challenged, "Name one way that this is a bad idea."

"Uh," Spoony replied, "How about that we know jack shit about this place and what's around here? Or how about we're more likely to have pirates and bandits jumping our ass if they think there are less of us?"

"What do you mean?" Critic asked, "We split up during the quest for the gauntlet, and I don't remember hearing a peep from you back then."

"That's because there was like twenty of us," Spoony countered, "and I complained a lot, for your information."

"…And I suppose you have a better idea?" Critic asked, "Let's hear it, then."

"I think," Spoony said, "That we should stick together and get a bit familiar with the area before we start splitting up."

"I'm leader," Critic stuck his tongue out the gamer, "So we're going with my plan. As I was saying: Marz, Linkara and I will take the eastern half of the town. Chick, you deal with Spoony and take the western part. We'll contact each other after an hour, or if something happens. Alright?"

The Yellow Ranger once more growled something under his breath as the Red, Blue and Green Rangers disappeared into the crowd, leaving him and the Pink Ranger alone.

Chick, the only one in the duo not busy muttering curses under their breath, began searching for a place to start testing. Old, shabby buildings, edges smoothed by wind and sea-salt, stretched out for miles on one side of the cobblestone street. Signs, some carved in blocky letters and others painted with fancy scrawling, separated each relatively identical building from another. Other things, like display windows and barrels and boxes of various goods helped specify the functions of each building a little further, helping separate a general store from the blacksmith and the baker to the casual pedestrian.

But, as much as their lively displays and painted signs tried to entice potential customers, none of these places seemed like an ideal place to start for Chick.

As they walked, the colorful eye-catching displays became fewer and fewer, giving way to more gruesome and grotesque arrangements that seemed far more appropriate for the derelict and seedier looking buildings that began to occupy the area. Although it was only afternoon, somehow the mere aura of squalidness that floated in the foul-smelling air seemed to cast a shady blanket over everything.

A crash, thin and clattering like the sound of glass shattering echoed through the air alongside some slurred, indecipherable shouts, causing Chick to jump and Spoony to immediately stop ranting.

Just ahead of them, they found rather small building. From what they could decipher of the faded, rotted sign, it appeared to be some kind of inn. Although a thick layer of dust covered the windows, shapes and light could be seen within, indicating that this was not an abandoned building, as it might have appeared.

Probably not the safest of places to enter, Chick reasoned as she lead Spoony inside, given that it did seem to be in the part of town that the less than desirable characters were more than likely seen.

But, it was as good of a place as any to start.

Despite its very dilapidated outward appearance, the interior of the place seemed much more well-kept and lively. Granted, it still had that touch of dustiness about it, and its current occupants did seem like the type who'd probably spent more than their share of time in jail, it certainly seemed like a small improvement over the outside.

"Are you kidding me?" Spoony whispered harshly as Chick dragged him toward a small table in the corner of the common area, "These guys could probably gut us like sheep if we just look at them wrong. You sure that we want to test out that program here?"

"There's a lot of people here," Chick explained just quietly enough for only the gamer to hear, "If there's any Synthspectors here, we'll be able to watch them without anyone noticing us. Just keep you're head down and don't say anything."

Checking furtively over their shoulders to make sure that no strangers—as impaired as their vision may have been by eyepatches and glass eyes—were watching them, the two summoned their morphers. With a few taps on the keypad they started the program. A wavering shockwave of energy pulsed from the morphers, showering the room in its transparent waves.

The two reviewers breathed a small sigh of relief as no-one seemed to notice the wave that passed through them. Almost immediately, a faint orange glow, unseen by all but the two observers, glimmered around some of the patrons of the inn.

Within the few seconds that the light appeared, the images of the marked customers wavered just slightly, revealing traces of the featureless faces that the two reviewers had come to unmistakably recognize as Synthspectors.

Still careful not to be spotted, Chick began examining a set of charts displayed on her morpher. Spoony bit his lip, looking between the readouts on Chick's morpher, matching them up with the ones on his own and with the light-marked pirates within the common room.

"Well," Chick said, "Looks like the program works, and we didn't get caught. Let's report back to Insano and the others and get the hell out of here."

"Hey," Spoony asked, leaning over the table to point at something on Chick's chart, "That dark pinkish-red blip; what's that?"

The female reviewer frowned as she studied the magenta colored dot on the screen. That was strange, she thought, comparing it to the other dots nearby it, running through all the possibilities of what it couldn't have been.

Any Synthspector reading that appeared on the tiny screen was marked with orange, she noted, while any normal human being didn't even register on the radar. It couldn't have possibly been them misinterpreting their own signal—a couple of glowing pinpoints in their Ranger colors indicated that one.

It could have been possibly Tegon or Devafen, she noted, but not both of them. Otherwise, there would have been two dots. Of course, she thought as she looked up, quickly scanning the crowd, there was one other thing that it could possibly be.

"Spoony," Chick said, tapping the long-haired gamer on the shoulder, "I think I might have figured out who that dot was."

She pointed to a very lanky looking young pirate sitting at another table, gambling with an oily and squat little man in an ill-fitting striped shirt. Although most of the skinny man's head was covered by a large red bandana, long, frizzy curls framed the man's thin face, emphasized by the pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on the man's nose.

The female reviewer couldn't hear the man talk from where she was standing, but she was sure that his words would have been laced with a Welsh accent.

"You think that's Welshy?" Spoony asked, confirming to his teammate that he too noticed the similarity.

"Who else could it be?" Chick answered, more to herself than to the gamer, tapping her morpher, "All of the readings are saying it is. Plus, why else would there be this many Synthspectors hanging around if it weren't? I'll call the others and let them know what's going on. Spoony, don't let him out of your sight, okay? If he ran off, it'd be like finding a needle in a haystack trying to track him down again. Spoony, are you even listening to me?"

But, the green-eyed man sitting near her was no longer listening, nor was he even sitting any more. A square-jawed blonde woman gripped the terrified gamer by the shoulders and had all but slammed him against the wall. The way that the woman's steely gray eyes stared through him as a deep, angry scowl darkened her frightening features.

"Ye ain't got much rottin' up in that dead skull of yers," the woman growled, her breath smelling heavily of rum "If ye thought that you could jus' show yer flea-bitten, scurvy arse around here, again."

The gamer laughed nervously as he tried to squirm out of the woman's grip, only to find that she had him pinned against the wall like a beetle in a biologist's bug collection.

"E-excuse me, lady," Spoony said, "But, I think you got me confused with some else. I just came in here for a few drinks. I've never been here in my life."

Spoony shot a pleading look over at Chick, who fidgeted with a loose lock of hair, torn between wanting to help her fellow reviewer and not wanting to loose sight of their newly acquired target.

"Ah," the woman barked a laugh, "I see what's goin' on: Ol' Black Dog Bill sent ye in ta see if the Captain wasn't lookin' for you two. But, now that ye got caught, yer gonna play dumb, thinkin' that I wouldn't notice. Ye can't fool me, though. I'd recognize that ugly face of yers anywhere, Jack."

"Look, lady; I don't know who the hell you think I am," Spoony replied, growing more annoyed, "But my name's not Jack, okay?! You mind lettin' go of me, please?"

"I told ya," the woman growled, "lyin' and cheatin' yer way out of this ain't gonna work."

Chick's cheeks flushed a deep red and her jaw set as she stepped in, wrenching one of the angry blonde's large hands from Spoony's shoulders.

"Hey!" Chick said, "You mind getting your hands off of my friend, there? I don't think he needs to tell you a third time: he's not the guy you're looking for."

The female critic winced, immediately regretting drawing attention to herself as the livid blonde whipped around, dropping the gamer to the ground with a heavy thud. The woman, easily six feet tall, dwarfed the petite reviewer as she bore down on her, the veins in her neck twitching.

"'An who the hell are you?" the woman asked, "Some whore off the street that Jack picked up for the night?"

It was about this time that common, rational thought and Chick had parted ways for the moment, as the dark-haired lady practically leapt off the ground, upper-cutting the larger woman in the jaw, knocking her into one of the occupied tables, upsetting several men's drinks and card games.

Once the loud buzzing had faded from Chick's ears, allowing her to hear the deafening, stunned silence that fell over the tavern as every pair of eyes was now on her and Spoony, who was scrambling back onto his feet.

"So much for laying low, eh?" the gamer said under his breath.

"Hey," Chick replied defensively, "I got Bessie the Sea Cow over there to let you go, didn't I? The least you owe me is a 'thank you'."

"Yeah," Spoony said, "But, now the rest of the tavern's pissed at us. Including Welshy. And if he's pissed, then probably most of the Synthspectors are pissed too. Speaking of which, was that lady one of them?"

"Nope," Chick replied, "Apparently, she's just one really pissed off pirate."

"Ah, well that's good to know," Spoony said, "But you know what's even better to know?"

"What?"

"An escape plan."

Chick had no time to respond as a raucous roar echoed through the bar, as chaos erupted like a volcano around the two. Although a large number of the patrons seemed to be focused on aiding the blonde pirate, it seemed that an equally larger number didn't care who was fighting who or why, and were just happy to have an excuse release any aggressions they'd kept pent up while on the cramped confines of a ship.

Had it not been for their battle training earlier that morning, both Chick and Spoony would have been pummeled flat in less than five minutes. Luckily for them, they were able to maneuver rather quickly between the crowds of rowdy, drunken pirates. Unfortunately, the crowd—the same thing that had only moments ago made the inn an ideal location—was a little too large and tough for just the two of them to handle alone.

Within a matter of minutes, the two reviewers had found themselves backed into a corner. At the head of the mob, the furious blonde woman rubbed the red spot on her jaw where the Pink Ranger had punched her. Beside her, Welshy and three other pirates moved in to flank the two trapped individuals.

Spoony, having become frustrated with being backed in a corner, lunged at the crowd, hoping to knock the nearest person off their feet and open a path for escape. Unfortunately, in his blind rage, he failed to see that one of the pirates had swiftly dodged out of the way, hitting the Yellow Ranger hard in the back of the neck.

"Um," Chick laughed nervously as two of the pirates grabbed her fallen teammate by the arms, pulling him off the ground, "Now wouldn't be a good time to apologize, would it?"

With a swift movement with her hand, the blonde motioned for Welshy and the drunken pirate he had earlier been gambling with to grab Chick, pinning her arms behind her back.

The lanky pirate blinked, overtaken by a momentary confusion, as his eyes fell upon his captive. It was like déjà vu, he thought. He remembered seeing her somewhere before, somewhere far away, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen her face before. Perhaps it was at some inn in the middle of some other port town, he guessed, shaking his head.

It didn't matter, he tried to tell himself. She just had a face that just naturally seemed familiar to other people. Lots of people had those faces—it wasn't completely unheard of.

"Sorry about this, miss" Welshy said, "Melody can be a bit wild at times. Luckily for you, the Captain's a bit of a nicer guy. And you seem like a smart lady, so he might go easy on you. Jack's pretty screwed though."

Chick sighed, defeated, as the group of pirates dragged her and a still unconscious Spoony out of the inn. Why couldn't things ever go as easily as they sounded?

* * *

><p>On the other end of town, the remaining three Rangers were starting to get a little worried about their two missing teammates. Over an hour had passed since the two groups had split from each other, and so far none of them had even heard so much as sound from the Pink and Yellow Rangers.<p>

"Figures," Critic said, leaning against the corner of one of the brownstone buildings, "We set a time for them to call us, and they already forgot."

"I dunno," Linkara said, "I mean, yeah; I'm not saying that it's unlikely. But, even they're not that forgetful. I got a bad feeling about this."

"You think that we should contact Insano and the others," MarzGurl asked, "and see if they can get a lock on them?"

"Probably," Linkara replied, summoning his morpher, "I mean, if anyone knows what's up, they would, right?"

However, before Linkara could initiate communication, Critic held his hand up, motioning for him to wait. All of the reviewer's senses were heightened with rapt attention, as stared down the dark alley nearby.

Someone, human and possibly male by the shape of them, retreated into the shadows as if trying to hide. What dim light managed to filter into the dank gap briefly illuminated a mane of very familiar shaggy dark brown curls flowing from beneath a faded yellow bandana.

An annoyed frown spread across Critic's thin lips as looked over his shoulder at his two companions, observing with baited breath. Of course, he thought, it all made sense now. This was just some stupid, childish prank that Chick and Spoony had decided to pull on the others.

Just as soon as the frown appeared, was it replaced with a devilish grin.

Well, he thought, it couldn't work if the people they were pranking already knew that they were there. With the silent steps of a ninja (or at least an attempt thereof, as that silent movement was difficult when the leather of his boots kept creaking), he crept down, leaving Marz and Linkara behind to exchange puzzled glances.

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust as the faint stench of garbage and other strange smells that nobody was brave enough to venture at guessing, wafted through the narrow passage. Even for it being near mid afternoon, the shadows and fog that darkened the area were so thick that he had to strain his eyes just to have even half a chance of seeing.

"You guys," Critic called out, "Come on out, your cover's blown. I already saw Spoony run in here."

No sound or movement occurred in response. For a moment, Critic wondered if he hadn't only imagined seeing anything. No, he shook his head furiously; he was positive that he'd seen _someone _duck into this alleyway.

"Oh, I get it," He said slyly, "You know that we caught you, so now you're going to try to pretend that you're invisible and try to trick us into thinking you're not here. That's _really _mature."

Still no response.

"Look," Critic continued the faint twinge of agitation in his voice growing more and more pronounced, "We don't have time for this bullshit. I already reported back to Insano, and we should have been getting ready to get out of here hours ago. So, unless you guys _really_ want me to kick your ass, come out…."

The last words escaped his lips slowly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up uncomfortably. Something, or someone, was standing behind him; close enough to be able to breathe down his neck.

"Linkara?" Critic asked, his voice barely able to squeak the words, "Marz? Is that you?"

He tensed again as he felt a circle of coldness, presumably from the barrel of a gun, pressed against the back of his neck. Okay, he thought as he tried to keep himself calm, so it wasn't Linkara or MarzGurl.

"Didn' think a bloke like you'd be stupid enough to let yer guard down," a voice said, "'specially around a place like this."

Although he didn't dare move, any fear that the reviewer had regarding his assailant was replaced with annoyance. He recognized that voice; it was the same one that Spoony had used when he was he was doing a pirate impression earlier.

"Really, Spoony?" Critic sighed, "You're going to hold me at gunpoint? That's kind of pushing it a bit, don't you think?"

"I don' know what yer talkin' about," The pirate growled, "But, what I do know is that ye got about three seconds to explain yerself before yer brains'll be splattered all across this alley."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Critic said, "Explain what?"

"There's somethin' off about ye," the man said, "I know that yer one of those witches in disguise, aren't ye? Gotta say, mate; yer not the smartest witch in the coven. Otherwise, ye'd known that that face yer usin' already belongs to someone who ain't dead."

"Oookayy," Critic said, "Clearly Marz was right; this dimension's starting to get to you. Just put the gun down and well go back, and you can take a nap while Nurse and the doctors look you over, alright?"

Critic's terror and panic flooded back into him tenfold as sweat began to bead against his forehead. His heart began to beat wildly in his chest as his mind raced. What was he supposed to do? He thought. Spoony had just snapped and now started getting a little too into character. If he didn't think of something quick, the rats in the alley would be able to eat well for months, provide

"Time's up." The pirate said, as an audible click rang through the air.

Critic swallowed, shutting his eyes tightly as he prepared to feel a ball of hot lead pierce through the back of his skull. Well, he thought with a twisted sense of optimism, at least he was shooting him in the head. The pain should be over with quickly.

But, that bullet never came as another audible click, this one slightly different than the last, sounded from behind them. If Critic were able to look behind him, he would have seen two things. The first would have been a pirate who looked almost identical to Spoony holding a gun to his head. The second would have been Linkara aiming the magic gun at the duplicate of the gamer.

"Put the gun down," Linkara commanded in the firm but gentle voice that one usually reserves for coaxing an unruly child into behaving, "Please. I don't want to shoot anyone."

The duplicate grinned slyly, but did not drop his weapon. Without warning, yet another audible click sounded, this time from behind the comic reviewer. To the casual observer, the appearance of the new gun-wielder would have been considered probably a little more baffling than the first.

This pirate looked very similar to Critic, as if they could have possibly been twins. The only major difference was that, unlike the balding reviewer, this pirate had very long, and very greasy, mane of black hair. However, to the reviewers, who were used to dealing with people who coincidentally looked very similar to themselves, weren't at all surprised by the resemblance.

"Jack might be a bit of a lunkhead," the second pirate said, "'But, he's not dumb enough to go chasin' devils on his own."

However, no sooner had the words escaped the other pirate's mouth, did yet another click echo through the still air. This time, it was MarzGurl's turn to join what was starting to look like the world's most pathetic and violent conga line.

"Okay, Spoony," Critic tried again, "Just put down the gun. This is starting to get way beyond stupid."

"Um, Critic," MarzGurl said, "Not sure how to break this to you, but that's not Spoony."

"What do you mean, 'that's not Spoony'?" Critic shouted, still frozen in place, "Sounds like him."

"…And looks like him, too." MarzGurl replied, "But I ran a scan, and I didn't pick up Spoony's signal anywhere near here."

"Oh," Critic replied sarcastically, "Well, _that's_ comforting; knowing that the guy that's about to blow my head off _isn't_ one of my friends."

"We won't blow yer head off," the first pirate, Jack as his partner had called him, "If you just tell me if yer working with the man in black or not."

At this, the trio of reviewers fell silent as they exchanged glances with one another. It was as if they were working on a section of a puzzle—they hadn't quite found the last piece to make the section complete, but they'd at least managed to fill in enough pieces around it to have a very good indication of which piece fit there.

"What do you know about him?" Linkara demanded.

"I don' think yer in any position to be askin' questions," The second pirate said, pressing the gun harder into the comic reviewer's back.

"Yeah?" MarzGurl said, pressing her gun into the second pirate's back in turn "Well, seeing as I'm the only one in this line-up without a gun being pointed at their back, I think that makes me the only one here in position to be asking questions. Now, what do you know about this man in black? Is he a wizard?"

"Yeah," the second pirate replied, "Well, he's some kind of devil, anyways."

"And the first time you saw him," MarzGurl continued, "Was roughly three months ago, wasn't it?"

"Well, we just recently remembered," the second pirate replied, "But, yeah; ye could say it was 'round that time."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "He, this cat-lady, this sea-creature looking man and this bunch of faceless looking blokes showed up, an' dropped a guy off here, then cast some sort of spell on the place. Of course, if yer with them, ye'd have known that, right?"

Once more the trio of reviewers gave apprehensive looks to one another. There was definitely no mistaking it; these men were talking about Malachite and his army. Everything fit too well for it to possibly be anyone else, barring cosmic coincidences.

In silent agreement, both the Blue and Green Rangers lowered their weapons. The pair of pirates, confused by their two captives' sudden change of heart, also lowered their weapons.

"It's hard to explain," Critic said finally, "But, basically; we've got score to settle with him, too."

"Ah," Jack said, "I see. So, we're really on the same side here, eh? Well, now I feel kinda bad for pointin' my gun at ye. Name's Jack, by the way; Smilin' Jack D'Arcy, as they call me."

"Most people call me the Nostalgia Critic." Critic said, extending a hand in greeting, "But, just call me Critic for short. So, who's the guy with the eye-patch who you thought I was impersonating?"

The second pirate gripped the reviewer's outstretched hand, giving it a shake so vigorous that Critic could have sworn that his arm would have been ripped out the socket.

"Black Dog Bill they call me," the second pirate said jovially, "But, only when there drunk, 'cause my real name is Howard. Although, you can just call me Bill."

Bill smiled as he removed his hat, giving a graceful bow toward MarzGurl, before extending his hand toward her. The purple streaked haired reviewer, seeing Critic still rubbing his sore arm, gingerly took the pirate's hand, only to grimace as he lightly kissed her hand.

"I'm MarzGurl," she said, "And that guy over there is Linkara."

Linkara gave a half-hearted wave before pulling Critic aside.

"I'm not sure about this," he said under his breath, "On one hand; they managed to break Malachite's spell without any help. On the other hand; if they were Synthspectors or any foreign presence in this dimension, like Tegon or Devafen, then the scan would have picked it up wouldn't it?"

"I don't know," Critic said, "For all we know those scanners probably messed up. But, I've got a good feeling about these guys. If they can help us bring down Malachite, then I'm not gonna complain."

"Still seems pretty reckless to me," Linkara replied.

"So's everything else we've done," Critic replied, "It's never stopped us from doing it before."

"Still," Linkara said, tapping a few keys on his morpher, "Better contact Insano and the others. Maybe they've got a theory about all this."

A faint blip echoed through the air, unheard by anyone but the two reviewers.

"_Hello_," a female voice said through the faint static, "_Doctor Tease here. What can I do for you?"_

"Hello," Linkara said, "Not trying to be rude, but where's Insano?"

"_Oh_," Tease replied airily, "_He and Celluloid are tied up with another project at the moment. But, I'm pretty sure that whatever problem you've got, I'm more than capable of helping. Those degrees I got out of that cereal box are more than just for decoration, you know._."

With a shrug, Linkara explained the situation to the female scientist. Only a brief pause filled the static as Tease began to run a few tests and scans. A few minutes had passed before she spoke again.

"Well, I can't be sure," she said, "But, based on a record of energy readings and anomalies over the past three months, as well as based on the more recent data from your scanners, I theorize that their reduced influence of the spell had something to do with our interfering with it a few months back."

"So," Critic translated, "It's the same thing that happened to us when Malachite invaded our dimension."

"_Exactly_," Doctor Tease replied, "_Well, kind of, anyways. Where your memories manifested themselves through dreams, theirs appears to be more conscious. Plus, there's always the possibility that they happened to have caught a Synthspector outside of its disguise, which helped trigger these memories into their consciousness."_

"That's always a possibility," Linkara replied, more to himself than to either Critic or Tease "So, what do you think we should do about it?"

"_Well, I assume that we could use this to our advantage,"_ Doctor Tease said, "_After all, it never hurts to have a few allies. Besides, they could probably help us get rid of any left over Synthspectors…"_

"…Or to let us know about any residual spells in the area that we might have overlooked" Linkara finished, "Still sounds pretty risky to me. But, I guess you've got a point. Oh, by the way; could you locate Chick and Spoony for us? We were supposed to hear from them an hour ago, but we haven't heard anything from them, and they won't answer their communicators. And we're a bit too far out of range for the scanners were testing out to get a lock."

"_Yeah_," Tease said, as another faint clicking of keys punctuated the static once more, "_I'll make a note to adjust the range on the portable scanners when you guys get back. Ah, here we go; they're on a ship about three miles east of you and moving."_

"What are they doing on a boat?" Linkara asked.

"_You tell me," _Tease replied, "_But, that's not all. I'm picking up a few other readouts near them."_

"Synthspectors?"

"_Well yes_. _But, I'm also picking up a faint readout from one of the missing reviewers. Don't know why it didn't set off our alarms. Maybe we had another glitch in the system while we were trying to get Nimue connected to communications..."_

A distant explosion caused the static to crackle loudly as the comic reviewer faintly heard Nimue's voice alerting the scientist of some sort of emergency, and Tease muttering a few curse words under her breath.

"_Well, it looks like we have a bit of a mishap here_…." The female scientist tittered nervously, "_I better help Nurse before-Ohmigod! Celluloid; your hair's on fire! Um, I have to go right now. Good luck with the mission and all."_

A final, abrupt click signaled the end of the transmission, leaving the comic reviewer and Critic frowning down at the morpher, silently trying to imagine what sort of project they could possibly be working on that'd cause that big of an explosion. And, whatever it was, Linkara hoped that he wouldn't have to be making too many repairs to Pollo and Nimue later.

They tried to put it out of their mind as they rejoined MarzGurl and the two pirates outside of the alleyway. It was almost as the incident earlier had never happened as the two pirates and the female reviewer joked with each other like old friends.

"Oh hey," MarzGurl said, greeting her fellow teammates as they rejoined her, "I thought you were right behind us. Where were you guys?"

"We've gotta get back to the ship" Critic said in a low voice, not even bothering to stop, "We've got trouble."

"What?" MarzGurl asked, stumbling as she tried to catch up to his brisk pace, "What do you mean?"

Hurriedly, the Red and Green Rangers relayed the information they'd gotten from their conversation with Doctor Tease to the Blue Ranger and their two companions as they pushed their way through the crowds.

Upon hearing mention of the missing reviewer, Jack and Bill exchanged worried glances with one another as they slowed. Critic growled under his breath as he turned around. Seriously, he wondered, what was holding them up this time? Didn't they know that they had a very important mission to do?

"What is it?!" Critic asked impatiently, "We don't have time for this."

"Um," Jack said, nervously, "You said one of those friends your looking for-the ones the wizard left around here—his name wasn't Welshy, was it?"

Critic raised as skeptical eyebrow as he slowed to a stop. How'd they know what they're missing fellow reviewer's name was? He himself hadn't even known which reviewer was here until just then. More importantly, why did they sound strangely apprehensive about it?

"Well," Bill explained, seeming to sense Critic's suspicions, "It's just that, well, the guy that was left in our crew is named Welshy."

"Really?" Critic said, brightening up a little, "Can you help us find him?"

"Er…" Bill stammered, "Not exactly. That's to say; we know where he is, but gettin' to him is probably going to be really difficult. Well, for me and Jack at least. Probably you, too."

"Oh, of course!" Critic replied with agitated sarcasm, "Isn't it always? Why should today be any different? So, what happened?"

"Well," Jack explained, "A little while back, 'round the time that we started noticin' the wizard's spell, we were investigating and whatever. Well, we went to ask Welshy a few questions, but a couple of the wizard's men got suspicious an' tried to attack us."

"Unfortunately," Bill added, "They were disguised as part of our crew. An' when they magicked themselves out of there, the rest of the crew thought we killed them. I'm guessin' that there's a few more of 'em in the crew, because they also convinced the crew that we were also tryin' to kill Welshy."

"So," Jack concluded, "Long story short; About half our crew wants our heads on pikes."

Now it was Critic and the others turns to exchange worried looks. Hurriedly, they began to sprint even faster than before.

"Hey!" Jack called after them, stumbling to catch up with them, "What's goin' on?"

"It's a bit complicated," MarzGurl explained, "But, one of our other friends; well…he looks like you. A lot."

"Kinda like Bill and Critic look alike?" Jack asked as the answer dawned on him, "So, yer thinkin' that the crew probably thinks he's me?"

"Think?" MarzGurl replied, "Knowing our luck, we're almost positive that Malachite—the man in black, I mean—and his pals aren't the only one's we've got to worry about."

The two pirates, quick to catch onto the severity of the situation, pushed ahead of the trio, leading the way toward the Critic's ship. Behind them, Critic held his breath, silently hoping that they weren't too late. And, if they were, he hoped that there would still be something of the Yellow and Pink Rangers left to save once both the pirates and the Synthspectors got through with them.

* * *

><p>A murky gray light, like dishwasher, filtered through the dirty windows that separated the inside of the ship from the endless stretch of sea outside. Grumpily, Chick tried to steady herself as the ship rolled against the choppy waves, sliding anyone and anything not firmly tied to the floor a few inches.<p>

She needed to get out of there, she thought, that fact was obvious. But, just as obvious as that fact was, there were other equally obvious facts that told her that escape was difficult.

For starters, there was the fact that she was currently being held in a cell. Secondly, even if she were able to break the bars on the cell, it wasn't like she had anywhere she could go, unless she planned on swimming back to shore.

Third, and probably a bit more important, was that she didn't want to escape without either Spoony or Welshy. This, she noted bitterly, was a bit of impossibility as that Spoony was lying on the floor of the cell, still unconscious, and Welshy was still too much under the spell's influence to be willing to follow her.

However, she sighed as she slumped against the curved wall of the cell, it was probably only a small relief that only Welshy was standing guard at the door of the cell, as far as she could notice.

Perhaps, she thought, it might be easier for them to escape if she managed to loosen the spell's grip on him. At least that way, they might be able to get around the herds of armed pirates. The swarm of Synthspectors that'd inevitably descend upon them like flies on rotting fruit, however, was a tougher problem to contend with.

But, she figured, if this worked, she'd probably be able to contact the others and find the nearest portal back to the base before either party managed to get them.

"Psst," she whispered, tapping the bars of her cell, "Hey, I need to talk to you. You got a minute?"

The lanky, bewitched reviewer turned his head just slightly, looking at her out of the corner of the eye. That was enough of a sign for the brunette reviewer to keep talking.

"So, um...yeah," she continued, "It's not like I don't enjoy this whole being kept prisoner thing—I don't—I was just wondering what your captain was planning on doing with us."

"Well," Welshy replied, "Captain doesn't see any reason to be keepin' you around, seeing as you're not really involved in any of this. So, we'll probably be taking you back to port soon."

"And Spoon-I mean, Jack?" she asked, "What about him?"

"Oh, y'know," he said with the faintest hint of bitterness edged into his voice, "torture him a little, gut him like a fish, string up his carcass outside of our hideout and let the animals eat his rotting flesh. Not necessarily in that order."

"And what do you think about it?" Chick pressed on, taking advantage of the disgust she sensed in his words, "Seems a little intense, doesn't it?"

"It's the Captain's plan," Welshy replied stiffly.

"But how do _you_ feel about it?" Chick asked, "Don't think about it as one of your captain's pirates. Think about it as yourself; as Welshy."

The bewitched reviewer didn't respond, but instead only focused upon the opposite wall. Although his back was turned to her, everything about the young man's posture at that moment hinted a just the slightest bit of doubt and preoccupation.

"You know you don't belong here, Welshy." Chick said, "You and I both know it."

Though her words were soft spoken, they echoed through some part of the bewitched reviewer's mind that he hadn't even realized was there, but at the same time always knew existed. His eyebrows arched, he returned his attention to the female reviewer.

"You sometimes feel out of place," she continued, "Like you're a stranger to everyone around you, even the people you call your friends? Am I right?"

"T-that's nothing," Welshy scoffed, feigning indifference, though the slight hitch in his voice betrayed his uneasiness, "Everyone feels that every so often."

"Yeah," Chick said, "But not like you do. You sometimes wonder if parts your life—things you remember—aren't part of some lie or a dream. People you think you've known all your life sometimes feel like strangers, while others you've just met seem oddly familiar?"

Welshy nodded slowly, skeptical and suspicious of this young woman before him. Even as she spoke, he couldn't help but remember how vaguely familiar she seemed to look to him when they had first met.

"Oh," the female reviewer continued, "this feeling, it gets worse after those nightmares, doesn't it? You know, the one's you can barely remember but keep having; where you're in some dark and cold place and being chased through bleeding rain by something you can't see all that well?"

Again, Welshy nodded; his eyes wide and now fully focused on the Nostalgia Chick. How could she have known about any of that? He wondered. He hadn't ever told anyone, not even his closest crewmate about any of this.

"Who or what in the hell are you?" he asked, trying to put on a front of gruffness, despite the breathless awe and fear in his voice, "Some kind of witch or seer?"

"Trust me," Chick laughed, "If I was a witch, I could've just turned myself into a bird and flew away by now. Do you really think I'd still be hanging around here? Use your brain, idiot."

"Then how'd you know…?"

"Listen, I know that you're probably going to think this is bullshit, but a wizard named Malachite kidnapped you and messed with your memories. You're actually from another dimension that was attacked three months ago. My friends and I are from that universe, too."

"Traveling between worlds?" the curly haired reviewer scoffed, "You're right, that does sound bloody daft."

"Okay fine," Chick sighed, "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Let's try this, then: What if I could _show_ you that I'm not lying?"

Behind them, the door opened with a grating scrape of wood against wood, disrupting the conversation. Three figures emerged from the open door and approached them. To the casual observer, the trio looked like the typical comically mismatched troupe that one finds in old cartoons. Towering over the other two was the Amazon-esque blonde that Welshy had called Melody. The second figure reminded Chick of a dwarf, partly from his tangled mane of flame red curls and his ruddy, weatherworn cheeks, and partly from the fact that he clearly didn't appear to be much taller than Chick herself.

The third figure, a toothpick of a man, grinned allowing the dim light of the prison cell to flash upon the few silver teeth within his mouth. Perhaps it was something to do with the lighting in the room, but she could have sworn the she could make out the faintest hints of a jagged scar running along one of the man's eyes. But, it was the skin around the possible scar that caught her attention; it seemed to appear to be greenish in tint, like the scales of some reptile.

Could it possibly be that Tegon was there, she wondered? No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, did she catch a brief flash of gold in the man's eyes. It was only a momentary flash, but it was more than enough to confirm the reviewer's suspicions.

Of course, Chick thought bitterly, rolling her eyes. Tegon would disguise himself as the captain. Then again, she couldn't really blame him. After all, she was pretty sure that if she had been given the opportunity to literally be anyone in the world, she'd probably let her ego get the better of her, too.

"Captain," Tegon asked, "Jack's still unconscious. Should we try to wake him?"

Chick blinked as she looked between the disguised reptilian and the other two. Immediately, an amused smirk broke out on the corners of her lips, just barely containing a laugh of mixed disbelief and amusement. The short man was the captain? Granted, she knew that it was probably against her better judgment to be amused by this, but out of all the obvious and cartoon-y twists that she had expected to encounter on this adventure, she couldn't see how she hadn't expected this one.

"That ain't going to be necessary," the Captain replied, his mouth splitting into a twisted grin, "the lad's been awake the entire time. Give him and the lady a minute to say goodbye to each other before we take him."

From the corner, Spoony let out a disappointed groan as he slowly sat up. Glowering with carefully restrained annoyance, the Pink Ranger staggered a few steps toward the gamer, helping him to his feet.

"What?!" she snapped, "You were awake the whole damn time?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't want to get involved," Spoony shrugged as he replied under his breath "Besides, I figured if I'd pretend to be unconscious, we could figure out what their plan was and still have some time to figure out how to get out of here."

"So," Chick asked, now also speaking in an aside, "What do we do now? They're still going to kill you, in case you haven't been listening."

"I've been listening," the game replied, "Yeah; they're going to rip me up like a bad report card, and use my rotting body as a decorative bird feeder. But, they're not even going to touch you, right?"

"So," Chick asked, frowning "While they're off torturing the living shit out of you for all the wrong reasons, I'll be free to contact the others and break out of this place? That's sounds like a great plan and all, except I've got a couple questions for you."

"Okay, go ahead…."

"How are you going to get out of this? I mean, there's like a hundred of these guys, and only like one of you. How do we know that you'll be able to hold out long enough for me and the others to get you back? And what about Welshy? They'll probably kill him if we just leave him here."

"Don't worry about it," the gamer flashed a weak smile, just falling short of obtaining a convincing air of bravado, "I'll figure out something."

"Well," Chick grumbled, "You better. I'd never hear the end of it if you went and did something stupid like got yourself killed."

The gamer was not given time to reply, as that the iron bars to the cell were now forced open, and Welshy and Melody stormed into the room. The cell was rather small; much too small for four people to fit in comfortably, so Chick wasn't surprised when Welshy jostled her, knocking her onto a nearby cot that took up most of the wall as he and Melody grabbed Spoony by the arms, dragging him out of the cell before disappearing through the door.

The door to the cell swung shut and locked with a loud clang as the Captain left, leaving Tegon and Chick as the only two occupants of that part of the ship. Slowly, Chick shook her head as she tried to sit up. As she did, she felt something slide just under her fingertips.

"Keys," she mumbled to herself as she clasped her hand around the object, feeling the rough, rusting metal against her skin.

She must have gotten them off of Welshy when he bumped into her, she thought. But, that seemed impossible, as that everything had moved too quickly for her to have even been aiming for the keys, much less stolen them.

There was only one logical explanation, she concluded; Welshy had deliberately bumped into her in order to give her the keys. Well, Chick thought smiling secretly, at least it seemed like trying to get through to him hadn't been a completely wasted effort.

"What was that you said?" Tegon asked, glaring at her from the corner of his eye.

"I said," the female reviewer snarked, "_'_Please_,'_ like as in _'Please, they locked me in here with you? You've gotta be kidding me.' _"

"I'd be careful if I was you, Pink Ranger" Tegon growled, "Or the next time you say 'please' it will be as in you begging for mercy."

Another malevolent, twisted grin spread across Tegon's lips as Chick's eyes narrowed. Damn it, Chick swore, somehow he'd managed to see past her disguise. It was going to be a lot harder to escape than she thought it was. Though, if there was any silver lining to be seen in this, it would be that at least she wouldn't have to figure out a way to discreetly contact the others in a room with very little hiding spots.

"Of course," Tegon continued to gloat, "I don't necessarily envy your friend's predicament much, either. You know their captain?"

"Let me guess," Chick replied, "One of your guys? Oh, don't tell me that that little midget is actually your partner in disguise."

"No," the lizardman replied, "He's not one of Malachite's men. But, I hear he's just as deadly. They call him Bloodbeard Joe. You want to know why they call him that?"

"Oh, I dunno," the female reviewer said sarcastically, "Is it 'cause his beard's the same color as blood?"

"Uh…." Tegon stammered, struggling to regain what intimidation he had lost, "Yes. But, they also say that his beard became red because of all the people he's killed."

Although Tegon hadn't been aiming to make the female reviewer gasp in shock like a woman in a 1950s horror film, he certainly hadn't been expecting her to start laughing so hard that she was gasping for air, either

"Oh my god!" Chick laughed, wiping a tear away from her eye "You're shitting me, right?! That's supposed to make shiver in my boots? That easily has to be the lamest thing I've ever heard!"

Growling furiously, Tegon slammed his fist against the iron bars of the cell, causing Chick to jump back to avoid being hit. A murderous blaze of fire burned in his now golden eyes as he glared at her.

"It's pointless," the lizardman growled, "You can't escape. You're stuck in that cage like the pathetic animal that you are."

"Oh, really?" the Pink Ranger smirked as she withdrew the keys from behind her back, "'cause this set of keys here says that getting out of here will be pretty easy."

Tegon grinned inwardly as Chick opened the lock, allowing the heavy iron door to creak open with an earsplitting groan. With a growl, he lunged at the open cell, hoping to catch the Pink Ranger before she had a chance to move. However, despite his quickness, Chick was much more agile, managing to throw him past her as she pushed her way out of the cell.

Once more, Tegon swung at the Pink Ranger, who dodged out of the way. In all honesty, she didn't want to fight him any more than she had wanted to even be in this room. She had more important matters to deal with, she reminded herself as she exchanged a few blows with her masked assailant.

The battle, though very intense and difficult, given the small space that they were confined to, raged on for a few minutes, with neither side seeming to have much of a definite hold over the other. While Tegon was clearly the much more experienced fighter, and had the advantage of having weapons, Chick's smaller frame made her much adept at maneuvering through the cramped quarters. She used this to her advantage, dodging and ducking around her enemy's attacks, wearing him down, while occasionally landing a few of her own.

Soon, the battle seemed to end, as Tegon clutched at his chest, where Chick had kicked him rather hard. The wide grin that he'd worn prior to the battle had long since faded and was now replaced with a furious, beast like scowl.

"Bad move fighting me, human," he growled as he raised the arm not clutching his chest, "You forget that even if I can't defeat you here, I still have Synthspectors that will be willing to kill on just a word."

"What?" Chick said, "You don't think you can take me on alone? Gotta have your faceless buddies to bail your scaly butt out of this?"

"No. I could easily take you down myself," Tegon said, "It's not you that should worry about the Synthspectors. Your long-haired little friend, Spoony—I believe you call him—on the other hand, should."

The lizardman mumbled something under his breath as he vanished in a puff of oddly sweet smelling white smoke, leaving Chick alone in the room to contemplate her next plan.

_Damn it_, she thought beating her fist against her other hand, _He's right. I forgot that about half of those mime looking creeps are hiding in the crew. I better get moving!_

Without pausing to catch her breath, she summoned her morpher, tapping in a command she knew to be Critic's communication frequency. Silently, she held her breath as the display on the tiny, wrist-mounted computer showed that the call was connecting.

_Please pick up_, she thought, _Please be there_.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Critic and the others were slowly making their way toward where their fellow Rangers were being held. The key word there, Critic added with a bitter sigh, was <em>slowly<em>.

They'd decided that Jack and Bill should probably navigate the ship, seeing as that they were the only two who seemed to have a hint as to where the pirates would have taken their captives.

However, thinking back on it, Critic wished that he'd volunteered to steer the ship himself. At least then he might have had something to keep his mind from wandering toward the worst scenarios possible.

_They might already be dead_, the thought entered his head unwillingly, _either these bloodthirsty buccaneers cut their throats. Or worse, the Synthspectors could have already…_

Furiously, he shook his head, trying to dispel what horrible thoughts tried to form.

_No, _he told himself, _Don't say that! You know what they say; you think bad things, and bad things'll happen. _

"Can't this thing go any faster?" he asked impatiently, more to keep himself from thinking than anything else.

"Sorry, mate," Bill sighed, gripping the helm "But, we're going as fast as we possibly can at the moment. We're almost there though. They'll probably already be landed by the time we catch up with them though."

"Probably gonna be cuttin' it close, eh?" Jack said, his eyes scanning the horizon, "They'll probably be just about ready to hang 'im by the time we reach land."

"What about a trial?" Critic asked as he checked the compass, "Wouldn't they give them one. You know, let them tell their side of the story and clear up all this bullshit?"

"We already had a trial," Jack replied, "Why do ye think Bill an' I fled? Those witches have everyone convince that they know what they saw."

"Besides," Bill added, "You think that they'd believe your friends' story?"

Critic scoffed, but didn't say anything as he shook his head. Why hadn't they called? He wondered. Even if Spoony had been foolish enough to land them in hot water with the locals, surely Chick would have at least been able to have hid for a few seconds to contact them.

Nervously, he snuck a glance down at his morpher. Maybe he should call them, instead, he thought. No, they were probably still in disguise, and probably heavily guarded. Blowing their cover by doing something stupid like trying to contact them would only make matters worse.

But still, another part of him argued, they hadn't contacted him or the others in over nearly two hours now. Maybe he'd have better luck figuring out what was going on if he tried to get a hold of them again.

So caught up in thinking was Critic, that he almost failed to hear the cricket-like chirp of his morpher beeping. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he heard Chick's voice echo through the device.

"_Hey_!" Chick said, "'_Bout damn time you picked up._"

"'Bout damn time you called," Critic snarked, although a note of happiness in his voice betrayed his relief, "You were supposed to call over an hour ago. Where are you guys?"

_"Long story," _the female reviewer replied, sighing, "_Basically, a couple of creeps in eyepatches started thinking Spoony was some guy named Jack, and they dragged us off to some hideout on an island."_

"What about Spoony?" Critic asked, "is he still with you?"

"_No_." Chick replied, "_the captain and this six-foot four blonde with a bad attitude came in and took him a few minutes ago. They left me here with Tegon. I'm fine, though, thanks for asking."_

_ "_Sorry," Critic apologized, "I'm glad you're okay. So, Tegon's hiding out in the crew, huh? Guess that means that Welshy and Devafen are probably not too far away."

"_Well, Welshy left with the captain. I haven't even seen_ _catwoman yet. Wait—how'd you know that Welshy was here?"_

The bearded reviewer explained everything to his female counterpart, telling her about how they'd met a couple of pirates who looked uncannily similar to both himself and the Yellow Ranger, and how those two had not only known of Welshy, but also seemed to have a vague familiarity with Malachite's forces.

The Pink Ranger listened carefully as the Red Ranger continued with the story, and when he finished, she remained silent for a few moments as she turned this new information over in her head.

"_…Sounds odd," _Chick concluded, "_But, that's beside the point. Now that you've found the real Jack, how much longer 'til you get him over here and let him try to clear up this mess? I'm not sure that I'm gonna be able to avoid being caught by Synthspectors much longer. They already know I'm here."_

Critic looked over at his pirate doppelganger, who only nodded towards the horizon. Just on the edge of the horizon, probably about fifteen minutes away he guessed, a black shape started to appear, steadily growing larger and more defined as the ship lurched closer to it.

"Well," Critic said, "How does fifteen minutes sound?"

"_It'll have to do_," Chick said, "_Wish you guys could get here faster, though. I just got on the island. They're dragging Spoony toward the center of the island in chains as we speak."_

"…and everywhere the fangirls started squeeing," Critic snarked, smirking, "flying to their keyboards to write page upon page of dirty, kinky fanfiction."

"_Pervert."_ The female reviewer sighed as she ended the transmission with a faint click.

The reviewer ignored her last words as he stared toward the ever growing mass on the horizon. For what felt like the second time in his life, he was over come with a powerful sense of purpose; as if he felt that everything depended upon him.

"Full speed ahead!" he shouted, dramatically pointing towards the horizon.

"We're already travelin' at full speed!" Bill muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes, "Geez. Man's so dense his brain makes a block of lead look like paper in comparison."

"Just drive," Critic replied, hitting his doppelganger on the back of the head.

"Aye, aye," Bill mumbled, rubbing the spot where Critic had hit him, "jackass."

* * *

><p>Back on the island, Chick peered through the crowd trying to get a good look at the events taking place before her. Although she knew that it was probably overplayed to make the joke by now, she couldn't help but think that the last time she'd seen this many rabid people hungrily staring at one person, it was during the premiere of one of the <em>Twilight <em>movies.

Cautiously, she tried to lay low, moving slowly within the small gaps in the moving crowd. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest every time she saw one of the shuffling mass turn their head just slightly in her direction. This feeling doubled, causing her heart to skip a beat, each time she sensed that one of those who looked at her could have possibly been a Synthspector in disguise.

Shuddering, she thought back to the zombies from the training simulation earlier that morning. No wonder Insano wanted to include them in the program, she thought, they were far too similar in nature to the Synthspectors when she really thought about it.

The crowd, she observed as she followed them, clambered up a narrow path through the jungle that seemed to become rockier as the steps grew steeper and steeper. Finally, the path emerged to an open area, presumably a couple hundred feet above where they'd started.

On one side, a rickety shack that seemed to be a hodge-podge of scrap metal and wood, seem to grow out of the jagged crevices of the mountainside, while on the other end, a fairly modest expanse of boulders, scraggly bushes and tall grass extended outward, dropping off suddenly into a sharp cliff. The petite brunette was positive that if she looked down the cliff, she probably could have seen half the island and beyond.

It was near this cliff that they dragged the dark-haired gamer, roughly throwing him onto the rocky ground just a hundred feet from the edge. His clothes had been ripped and torn during the trip up there, Chick could tell. Tell-tale signs of a struggle—angry red gashes from knife cuts, and nasty blue-black bruises from punches and kicks—peeked out from whatever part of his body that hadn't been splattered with mud and dirt, making Chick wince in sympathy.

A silent, angry glare that could have frozen the sun, had it been given power, burned in the gamer's pale green eyes as a fresh stream of blood trickled down the corner of his mouth. She could tell that he wanted to fight but found retaliation an impossibility thanks to the heavy iron shackles clamped tightly around his wrists, tying his arms behind his back.

The jeers of the mob died down just slightly as the captain, flanked as usual, by Melody, Welshy, and Tegon, stepped to the head of the crowd. The lizardman's eyes flashed with glint of sly amusement as he sneered at the captured gamer, forcefully dragging him to his feet.

Beside him, Chick caught a glimpse of Welshy. The lanky, long haired young man tried to wear a mask of indifference about his countenance. However, this mask seemed to be fairly transparent, as Chick could tell by the faint twitch of his lips into a displeased frown that he was more than a little uncomfortable with the crew's display of needless violence.

_He's thinking again,_ she thought to herself, _that's good. Maybe he'll finally figure it out this time._

Now, the scene became almost too quiet as the Captain began to speak, his voice surprisingly deep and commanding for his relatively short stature. Even Chick and Spoony couldn't help but feel compelled to stop and watch him as he spoke.

"Jack D'Arcy," the man said, "You've violated several laws of my crew's code."

"You have a code?" Spoony almost laughed, earning him a swift jab in the gut from Tegon.

"Of course we have a code," the Captain snapped "That's what separates us from the other low-life scoundrels. You should have known that."

"Yeah," Spoony spat, "Well, I guess I'm not the man that you thought I was, now am I?"

Once more, Chick winced, turning her head as she heard the sickening thwack of Tegon's fist across her teammate's face.

"Don't back talk to the Captain!" Melody said coldly, "Ye lily-livered sea-dog!"

For once, Chick couldn't help but agree with the towering blonde. Although he was trying to appear tough to this crowd, he seriously wasn't doing himself any favors by smart-mouthing them. Once again, the crowd started shouting, obviously riled up again.

"Enough!" the Captain roared, silencing the crowd, "Now, normally I wouldn't do this whenever the crime was witnessed by everyone. But, since Jack and Bill have been two of my most loyal crewmates for years, and I consider myself to be a fair man, I'm going to give you five minutes to explain yourself, and to tell me where your accomplice is hiding."

"I _don't know_, damn it!" Spoony shouted, trying to struggle against Tegon's grasp, "Haven't you idiots figured it out yet?! I don't know anything about what's going on! I don't know who Bill is. I don't even know why you're so damn pissed at me!"

"He's lying!" Tegon cried, "The coward's lying to cover his tracks! Kill him!"

"Oh," Spoony growled, casting a fierce look at the man beside him, "I'm _really _starting to get sick of you!"

For a third time, a fierce roar emitted from the restless crowd, that once more had to be quieted by the short, red-haired man.

"Well, Jack," The Captain said, his voice low with regret, "Since you refuse to tell us anything. I'm afraid that we have no choice now but to kill you."

Cold sweat poured down the gamer's forehead as Tegon released him, throwing him to his knees. Even if he were capable of fighting back at the moment, it wasn't as if he could go anywhere, for a flash of silver glinted in the sunlight as the Captain withdrew a curved sword, pointing it at him.

"You're lucky," the Captain said, "if I thought you were scum without honor, I'd have just shot ye on sight. I usually only reserve death by sword for those I really admire."

Spoony said nothing, only closed his eyes, preparing for the sickening feeling of cold metal against warm flesh and blood as the blade sliced through his neck like a grapefruit.

Chick's heart beat rapidly, as she looked around wildly, searching for anything that could possibly delay the execution for even a minute. Maybe a rock that she could throw to divert their attention elsewhere? No, there didn't seem to be any rocks small enough for her to be able to pick up.

Perhaps she could start a fire in the tall grass? A good idea, but far too dangerous. She didn't want to accidentally get herself or anyone else seriously hurt if the fire got out of control.

Suddenly, she heard a bizarre moaning howl echoing through the air. The other pirates must have heard it too, for they suddenly stopped and looked up at the sky, as if they believed the source of the sound were coming from something above them. There was something familiar about that moan, Chick thought, but she couldn't place what.

"_Lower your blade!"_ the voice ordered, "_Lower your blade or you shall face my wrath!"_

"W-who are you?!" the Captain demanded "What are you? Some kind of spirit?"

There was a slight pause before the voice answered.

"_I am the ghost of the dread Pirate Roberts,"_ the voice replied, "_My spirit has haunted this island for two hundred years. Release that man, or you shall be punished for all eternity, Bloodbeard Joe."_

Chick suppressed a giggle as she recognized the voice. Of course, she thought, she should have figured that Critic would have chosen to make a _Princess Bride_ reference while trying to create a distraction.

However, the distraction seemed to be working, as that several of the pirates seemed to staring about wildly, frozen in terror, their weapons lowered but gripped tightly in their hands.

"And if we don't?" the Captain asked, the tremble in his voice revealing his slow loss of nerves, "What will you do?"

"_You should know that in life, I was a very skilled magician," _Critic's voice rang through the air, "_Capable of summoning demons from the bowels of Hell itself to do my bidding."_

An unearthly shriek wailed through the air, causing many of the crew to whimper and quiver, as Critic began very dramatically mumbling a long string of gibberish.

Four more voices, two of which Chick instantly recognized as Linkara and MarzGurl, joined Critic's nonsensical and incoherent ramblings.

Chick noticed Tegon glaring as he realized that the incantations they spoke were not of any magical language. His hawk-like eyes narrowed as he looked away from the sky, now searching for shadows behind the towering rocks of the mountainside.

"Those aren't demons!" he all but shouted as he pointed toward one of the rocks, "They're imposters."

Immediately, the wailing gibberish of the fake demons stopped, as all eyes fell upon two large rocks near the entrance of the path. Like people waiting for a the main guest of a surprise party, the pirates stared at the rocks, holding their breaths and waiting for even the slightest movement to confirm their crewmates accusations.

The surprise they were waiting for was not the one they expected as a ball of white-hot energy darted through the air with bullet-like speed before vanishing into the sky above, leaving only a faint trail of smoke, and the scent of electricity, and a scrambling pile of confused pirates on the ground..

Linkara emerged from behind the rocks, his magic gun drawn and ready to fire again. Beside him, Critic and MarzGurl also entered the clearing.

Taking advantage of the confusion as the pirates climbed to their feet, Chick and Spoony broke from the crowd, rushing to join their companions.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Chick said, "But, I'm actually glad to see you guys, for once."

"Yeah? well," Critic muttered, "You two owe us for this, y'know? Getting yourselves kidnapped and all. I knew we shouldn't have split the team."

"Hey!" Spoony snapped, "Splitting up the team _your_ idea."

"Whatever," Critic replied, "dumbass."

"…prick," Spoony shot back under his breath.

If the gamer had been paying more attention, he would have caught the slight undertone of concern beneath the Red Ranger's words. However as it was, even if he had noticed it, there would have been no time to comment on it, for now Jack spoke to him.

"So, you're my twin, eh?" Jack joked, "Clearly, I must be the better looking one the two of us."

"Well," Spoony joked back, "I'd be a much handsomer man, except I'm dressed up as you. What'd you do to piss these guys off, anyways?"

"It's a long story…." Jack replied, running his fingers through his hair.

"….and one we don't have time for," Bill added, pointing toward the crowd "Look!"

By now, all of the pirates, disguised or otherwise, had shambled to their feet, evidently not pleased with being knocked over in such an undignified manner. Those with weapons (which was to say roughly ninety percent of them) held them at the ready, while the few without cracked their knuckles, planning to strike with their bare-hands.

The Captain, Bloodbeard Joe, seemed especially flustered as his beady gray eyes searched the attacking group. He blinked several times, almost sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him. He could have sworn that he was seeing not only an identical twin to Jack, but also a very similar, but slightly different, duplicate of Black Dog Bill as well. When he opened his eye again, he noticed that this, in fact, was no illusion.

"They're two of you?" the Captain asked, bewildered, "So, it's possible we had the wrong man, all this time?"

"That's what we've been trying to tell you," Chick said, "But, you guys were so wrapped up in yourselves you weren't even listening."

"But, be ye twins, or some kind of doppelganger," Melody asked, speaking for Bloodbeard Joe, "Then how do we know which of ye it was we saw killin' our crewmates? How do we know that this wasn' jus' some devilish trick or somethin'?"

The Rangers and their two allies paused, giving each other questioning looks. How were they supposed answer that part of the question without accidentally exposing their true identities to these people? They couldn't simply just say '_you were all hallucinating',_—every single person in that crowd believed they could trust their instincts enough to know what they saw. On the other hand, if they tried to fabricate a story that, while refuting the events, coincided with what they believed were the facts, they could accidentally get either Spoony and Critic, or Jack and Bill in worse trouble than before.

"It _was_ a trick."

All eyes fell on Welshy, who now seemed just a little uncomfortable that he'd drawn this much attention to himself at one time.

"It was a trick," he repeated, "The entire attack was a trick."

A whisper went up among the pirates as they pondered this. The attack was a trick? But, how could that be, they wondered, they knew what they had seen. Had he gone mad? Did it mean that the entire thing was a set up—that Welshy and a few of the others had been lying to them? If so, why? They wondered. Could it have been a staged mutiny?

"What do you mean," the Captain asked, "That it was a trick?"

"Ask him," Welshy replied, pointing at Tegon, as another round of surprised gasps and murmurs echoed from the thoroughly confused crowd.

"He enchanted us to think that we had all seen an attack," the lanky reviewer continued, "Think about it. How long have you known Bill and Jack? Most of you probably know them well enough to know that they don't ever attack anyone without good reason. So, why would they attack a couple of lowly deck-hands, when it would have made more sense to try to kill someone like the Captain, or Melody even?"

"I still don't understand," Melody said, "why you say that _he _bewitched us."

"Certain things don't add up," he continued, "Like why none of us remember what happened to the bodies, or which of our men got killed. And yet, every time one of us have doubted, he's been the one there to quickly remind us what we saw, even though he saw the same thing we did."

Another hushed, contemplative whisper echoed through the group, as several sets of eyes fell upon the disguised humanoid. Tegon, however, made no effort to look even the remotest bit shocked or offended that Welshy was accusing him of anything. He grinned slyly as he folded his arms, as if to say '_Well, you've caught me, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve._'

"Take them," the Captain said, motioning toward both Welshy and Tegon, "We'll discuss this at the hideout."

At least four men and women from the crowd emerged, grabbing both the bewitched reviewer and the masked lizardman by the arms. While the others resisted, trying to wriggle their way out of their captors grasp, Tegon remained oddly placid, as his snake-like grin never once faltered.

"Oh," he replied airily, "I don't think discussion will be necessary. Not when it's so much easier just to show you _proof_ of my magic."

Suddenly, a loud roaring filled the still air, freezing everyone in place. Although she couldn't move, Chick could see a flash of light as a portal opened in the face of the mountain, summoning forth Tegon's accomplice, Devafen.

Around them, several of the pirates stood blankly as their bodies began to transform into the faceless creatures that Chick and the others had grown so accustomed to.

Even Tegon's disguise had begun to waver as his true features began to shift into place.

The limbs of the awestruck spectators tingled furiously as the paralysis faded, leaving them free to move their bodies once more. However, like the disguises of Tegon and his cohorts, the tingling faded, and the Rangers were now able to focus again.

"So," Devafen smirked, "I see you needed my help after all."

"I didn't ask for you to be here," Tegon replied haughtily, "I _don't_ need your help."

"Didn't look that way to me," the catwoman laughed, "From where I was looking, that little human girl had you on the ropes during your fight on the ship. And she wasn't even at full power! You're lucky Malachite sent me to help you finish the job."

"Shut it, Devafen," the lizardman growled as a faint flush of dark red appearing underneath his scaly cheeks, "I was at a disadvantage. I can't fight as well when wearing these foolish disguises."

Nearby, Critic and the others watched the scene, patiently waiting for their two enemies to stop arguing with one another. However, there were two in the party who hadn't yet became accustomed to the sight of two half-human creatures bickering with one another. Bill and Jack exchanged bewildered glances with one another as they looked between the arguing pair, and the critics, silently wondering how they could be so calm about this.

"Aren't they supposed to be fighting us," MarzGurl asked, "Instead of each other?"

"Who cares?" Critic said, "They're distracted. Now's our chance to grab Welshy and get the hell out of here!"

"Um hey," Spoony said, rattling the iron chains binding his wrists together "I'd love to help you guys with this 'rescue' thing, but my hands are kind of tied, if you catch my drift."

For a moment, Linkara looked thoughtful as he examined the chains. Silently, he aimed the Magic Gun at his friend's wrists.

"Hold still," Linkara said, as he squeezed the trigger.

A steady beam of greenish energy shot from the barrel, connecting with the cold metal of the shackles. The Yellow Ranger winced just slightly as he felt an uncomfortable heat crawl across his wrist like a bug as the ray cut into the iron, melting it in half.

Soon, the clamps had fallen from the gamer's wrists, dropping to the ground below with a clatter. The gamer let out a small sigh of relief as he rubbed his sore wrists, trying to speed up the circulation rapidly returning to his hands.

"Okay," Critic said impatiently "Let's go. I'd like to get back to our dimension some time before I die of old age, if that's okay with you."

However, by then, Devafen and Tegon seemed to have remembered that the Rangers existed, and were now leering at them, their weapons drawn and ready to fight.

"Oh no," Devafen said, twitching her sharp, dagger-like claws so that they glimmering in the sunlight, "Don't even_ think_ that you're going to get away that easily, again! We might have lost one of your little friends to you, but we're not going to make that mistake twice."

"Well," Chick corrected her, "More like seven times. I mean, you _did _kind of let us get away, when you were chasing us back in our world. So, that's like five times. And then Snob would have been six…."

"…And," MarzGurl added, "Once we save Welshy—and we will—that'll make seven. So there's like two things wrong with your statement."

The catwoman snarled as she threw a few of her dagger-nails at the two women, who quickly jumped out of the way.

"…and I say," she hissed, summoning a new set of claws to replace the ones she'd used, "that the thought that your actually going to succeed this time is the mistake. So, let's stop doing the editor shtick and get to what we really came here for, eh?"

Now, it was the critics turn to ready themselves, as an array of rainbow colored lights appeared around their wrists, forming into their morphers.

"Looks like we don't have a choice," Critic said, "Ready, guys?"

The other four nodded, stretching their arm out in front of them in the way that they'd unspokenly decided as the starting movement for their morphing routine.

"Nexus Morph!" the five called in unison as they bent their arm, allowing them to easily type in the proper command on the keypad, "Activate!"

As before, a dazzling flash of rainbow-colored lights engulfed the five reviewers and blinding those around them with it's otherworldly brilliance, as their disguises vanished, morphing into the color-coded spandex body suits and helmets that, at one time they would have mocked as being needlessly garish and out of place, but now they saw as something that was just barely keeping them from getting killed too quickly.

This time, however, the group did not have time for a proper role call, as the battle quickly erupted around them. Pirates—those who were not Synthspectors in disguise—jumped out of the way, as their former fellow crewmates charged at the five rainbow-colored warriors.

"Hey," Chick said, "I don't know about you guys, but I kind of feel like breaking out those new weapons we tested out this morning."

"You read my mind," MarzGurl smirked, as she too squared off against another handful of monsters.

With a quick nod to each other, the two women summoned their morphers once more, this time entering in a different command. Another two flashes of light shot from the devices, engulfing their gloved hands in a shimmering aura. Almost instantly, the lights faded as two weapons—a pair of blue and silver hand axes, and a pink and silver crossbow—materialized in the two women's hands.

Noticing this, Critic, Linkara and Spoony followed suit as another three flashes of light deposited three more weapons—these also being similar to the weapons they had used in the simulation that morning (or in Linkara's case, a more modernized companion to his signature weapon), but accented in silver and their respective Ranger color.

"So, let me get this straight again," Critic asked, slashing at a few of the creatures "We're going to take on an army of powerful sorcerers, who can literally transform anyone into a creature from hell, and we've got a guy fighting with a fucking oversized croquet mallet. Oh, this makes _perfect_ sense to me."

"Still better than using a volleyball," Spoony replied as he swung the staff-like battle hammer in an arc, sending several more attackers crashing backwards, "So I'm not complaining."

Nearby, Bill and Jack watched the ensuing chaos of battle raging around them. Although they were quite familiar with notion that Critic and his friends were not of this world, they hadn't been expecting anything quite along these lines.

Of course, this awestruck confusion seemed to have only lasted briefly, as Bill drew his pistol, charging into the fray with a wild battle cry.

"Bill!" Jack called after him, "Are ye mad?! What're ye doin'?!"

"What does it look like?" Bill called back, over the sounds of gunfire and laser-like blasts of energy, "I'm helpin' em."

"But…." Jack started, but trailed off in a defeated sigh as he too, charged into the battle after his friend.

Also nearby, Bloodbeard Joe and his crew also seemed to have recovered from their confusion and now barreled into the fight, guns blazing and swords swinging.

Although Chick knew that their weapons would probably at best only serve to slow down the angry beast a little, she couldn't help but feel more than a little grateful for their effort. After all, she thought, it was better that they had this crazy mob on their side, rather than have them fighting against them.

During the few moments since the battle had begun, Chick had learned two things about her new weapon. One was that it was partially energy based. That was to say that the arrows that the weapon used were infused with energy by the weapon itself. However, the other thing that she learned was that this had the drawback of forcing her to have to wait between shots while the weapon recharged. Unfortunately, the time she waited varied between how much energy she put behind a particular shot. Sometimes it seemed to be only half as second, while larger, more potent blasts could disable her for nearly a full minute.

It was somewhere in the midst of the battle—Chick had to have guessed a couple minutes into it—that she found herself in this predicament. Sparks exploded from the rock behind a group of oncoming Synthspectors that the Pink Ranger had attempted, and failed, to hit. It'd only take a matter of seconds for them to have surrounded Chick. There were just far too many of them for her to have been able to take on at once.

Suddenly, she heard a fierce cry pierce through the air, as Melody and MarzGurl leapt from out of nowhere, tackling and slashing at the faceless creatures.

"I thought you didn't like me," Chick said slyly as the tall blonde pirate stood up.

Melody shrugged, brushing a lock of hair out of her face as she casually elbowed one the stunned creatures in the chest, knocking it back down into the pile with its buddies.

"Eh," she said, "Figured this'd be my way of sayin' sorry 'bout all that."

"Fair enough," Chick replied as she and MarzGurl swung their weapons, dispatching another pair of attacking Synthspectors.

* * *

><p>Elsewhere in the confusion, Critic spotted Tegon sneaking around the edge of the fray, slowly making his way toward Welshy, who was currently attempting to fight the two Synthspectors that had taken him captive at the beginning of the fight.<p>

"Shit," he swore as he countered a blow from one of the creatures.

There was no way that he could get to Welshy before Tegon did, he thought. There were just too many Synthspectors standing in his way, that even with the advantage of using a sword, he was still being slowed down considerably.

Everyone else, Critic noted with a hint of displeasure, either seemed to be in the same predicament as himself, or had not yet noticed that the lizardman was left unaccounted for in the fight.

On one side, Chick, MarzGurl and Melody now were locked in fierce combat with Devafen as the group exchanged exploding blasts of magical darts and crossbow bolts, amid gunfire and punches.

Not to far from them, Linkara and Bill were back to back, circling one another as they fired, pushing back the circle of faceless creatures that surrounded them. And, just on the other side of them, Jack and Spoony were currently exchanging blows with another handful of them.

Only Bloodbeard Joe seemed close enough to possibly help Critic intercept the two. Thankfully, the pirate captain seemed to notice this as well, as he drew his pistol, charging at Tegon.

The lizardman's eyes widened with shock as he ducked, narrowly avoiding the flying bead of lead that whizzed by just inches from his head.

"Nobody messes with my crew!" Bloodbeard Joe shouted over yet three more wild shots.

Hurriedly, Critic broke from his fight to help the short ginger-haired man. A few more shots rang from the captain's gun, a couple of which actually managed to graze the lizardman's arm.

Critic whistled under his breath as he joined the duel between the two (both now wielding swords). He had to admit, that for a normal human, the captain was putting up quite an impressive fight.

Unfortunately, for whatever skill either the Red Ranger or the captain had in the art of swordplay, neither of them was a match for the shockwave of magical energy that Tegon summoned from his sword. With a loud thud, the two were sent crashing hard into a boulder, shattering it into several jagged pieces.

Groaning, the two wearily tried to crawl to their feet, trying to ignore the dull pain in their bodies that was currently protesting their effort. Unfortunately, this was enough of a delay for Tegon to get close enough to Welshy.

Critic paled beneath his helmet as he heard the familiar dreaded words of magic flow from Tegon's lips like water from a fountain. Pure, unbridled terror gave speed to his senses, forcing him to struggle harder to regain his footing as the sky began to grow dark. His heart pounded loudly in his ears like a drumbeat, drowning out all other sound as he saw the Synthspectors began to glow and mutate into pure energy.

Although he seemed blind and deaf to everything around him but Welshy and Tegon, he knew that Linkara was undoubtedly also caught in a trance of his own.

Like before, Tegon's eyes flashed with a spark of pure insanity, far deeper and more dangerous than any sort of madness that Insano could ever hope to reach, as he gathered the energy into his hands.

He tried to run, to push the other man out of the way. But, his legs had other plans as a sharp twinge, like a knife being thrust into the back of his leg, shot through his leg, forcing him to stumble and cry out in pain.

"Welshy!" Critic shouted once he'd managed to find his voice again, "Get out of there!"

"I-I can't move!" Welshy replied, though his words rasped like scraping sandpaper against his dry lips.

Tegon's cold, hollow laugh echoed through the turbulent air as he released the ball of energy which burrowed itself into its victim's chest. The Red Ranger cursed himself under his breath as he watched the lanky reviewer painfully transform into what he could only describe as a half-human, half-squid/octopus looking creature wearing a pirate's outfit.

"Ewww…." He heard MarzGurl comment from somewhere behind him, "And I thought the whole shark-person thing that Snob turned into was freaky looking."

"I've seen enough bad horror flicks and hentai," Spoony said, "To fear where this might possibly end up going."

"My god!" Bloodbeard Joe breathed, as he stared in awe and terror at the creature before him, "What kind of witchcraft is this?"

Once the pain in Critic's leg dulled to a much more manageable ache, he stood again, regrouping with the others.

"Bill, Jack," Critic said to the two pirates, "This might be a little too big for you guys to handle. Get everyone somewhere safe, possibly as far away from here as you can. We'll take care of it from here."

"Aye, Aye!" Jack said, as the two parted from the group, leading the other pirates toward the exit.

"Alright everyone," Critic said once he was sure that the pirates had gotten a safe enough distance from the battlefield, "We know what to do, so let's make this quick. Marz—you and Spoony try to weaken Welshy a bit. Linkara and Chick, try to keep Miss Kitty busy while I deal with her pet iguana."

Wordlessly, the others nodded as they struck a fierce battle pose, charging at the trio. Welshy grunted as his arms stretched outward, morphing into several long slithering tentacles. With a wave of his arms, the tentacles arced, knocking Linkara, Critic and Chick back a couple feet.

MarzGurl and Spoony, having managed to dodge Welshy's attack, continued to charge at their transformed coworker. The blades of her axes flashed silver in the afternoon sun as the Blue Ranger leapt into the air, twisting her body at just the right moment to land a spinning slash upon Welshy as she landed right in front of him.

At the same time, The Yellow Ranger, summoning up every ounce of energy that he could spare at the moment, brought his hammer smashing into the ground. With a bit of surprise to both the gamer and his enemies, an invisible shockwave shook the ground below them, causing the two magicians and the monster-reviewer to stagger as the ground cracked around their feet.

Just as the two of them managed to separate Welshy from his two cohorts, the other three had recovered, and were now charging at the remaining enemies. The air was alight with flashes of light as the Pink and Green Rangers unleashed a volley of shots, clashing with Devafen's exploding darts.

Admist the torrent of sparks, Critic's and Tegon's swords clashed with one another.

"Why bother fighting?" Tegon growled as he bared down upon Critic with his blade "It's a waste of time to try to save your friend, anyways. You're just being stupid."

"You're the one being stupid," Critic replied slyly as he countered the attack, "I mean, you're wasting time following some hypocrite with a vendetta against a bunch of dorks from the internet! Don't you guys have any like, I dunno, something better to do with your time?"

"It's none of your business!" the lizardman said between gritted teeth as he pulled back, glaring at the Red Ranger with a furious, almost offended glare.

Yet again, the battle continued as the three groups exchanged blows with one another. Soon, the Rangers regrouped, preparing themselves for their next move.

"Alright guys," Critic said, "Let's get this over with. Time to bring out the cannon!"

Nodding, the other four got into position to receive the cannon. With a shimmer of sparkling light, the cannon appeared and the Rangers followed the procedure they remembered from the previous time they had used this particular weapon.

As before, a fierce ball of energy collided with Welshy, showering the field with a blinding light. And like the previous time, the light cleared, revealing Welshy, still unconscious, but back in his normal form.

However, the reviewers did not celebrate, for they could tell that something was wrong.

Instead of collapsing to the ground in an unconscious heap, Welshy's body wavered, fighting between his monster form and his normal form. Suddenly, a hazy violet pinpoint of light began to glow near his heart. Rapidly, the light grew brighter and brighter, enveloping the reviewer in its glow, until it seemed as if the light itself had taken on a vaguely humanoid shape.

The reviewers watched cautiously, holding their breaths, as Welshy's body lifted off the ground, as if he were being lifted by invisible wires. Without warning, the light shot out in all directions, forcing both the reviewers and Malachite's two generals to shield their eyes, for fear the sudden intensity of the light would pierce straight through their retinas.

As the light faded and the reviewers' vision had adjusted again, they noticed that Welshy no longer stood, or hovered, in the spot that he had been when the light had faded. But, the reviewers had no time to ponder what might have happened as that an earthquake-like rumbling shook the ground, causing them to stumble.

"What's going on?!" Chick asked, as yet another small earthquake rocked the ground below them, "Is this an earthquake? Or some kind of volcanic eruption about to happen?"

Almost as if in response, an unearthly, echoing roar rang through the air, freezing the reviewers in place.

Near them, Tegon and Devafen seemed to be staring up at something in the sky above them, just beyond the cliff. Almost against their will, the five critics' gazes followed their two enemies'. And, almost immediately, they wished they hadn't.

Welshy, now back in his monster form, towered high above them, at least sixty feet tall.

"So," Spoony said, once his fear had subsided enough for him to speak, "It looks like we're carrying on the 'Attack of the 50 Foot Whatever' trope of _Power Rangers_ and _Super Sentai_ tradition."

There was no time for anyone to reply, as that one of Welshy's massive hands slammed into the edge of the cliff, sending the crowd scattering as the force of his fist sent another ground-fracturing earthquake running through the mountain.

Thinking, MarzGurl summoned her morpher and quickly contacted the mad scientists. With some luck, they had been monitoring the situation, and could possibly give them some suggestions to deal with a sixty-foot tall monster.

"Blue Ranger to Base," MarzGurl said, "Come in!"

"_Base here,"_ Insano said, "_But, you don't have to be all formal, y'know. For the love of Alexander Graham Bell, we already know that you're contacting us! I mean, who else would you be contacting? It's not like these things are just cellphones that can call just anybody, you know!"_

"Listen, Insano," MarzGurl said, "We need a little help here!"

"_Of course you need my help," _Insano said smugly, "_When have you not needed my help?" _

"We don't have time for a lecture!" MarzGurl said with the same sternness she had used as a drill sergeant in Kickassia. Noticing that Insano seemed to be staring silently at her with his jaw slightly agape and his eyebrows raised just over the edge of his goggles, she breathed, trying to calm herself.

"Sorry," she apologized, "It's kind of an emergency, though. Welshy just got turned into a monster and I don't know how they did it, but somehow they made him grow like a hundred feet tall. You have any idea what could have caused that, or what we could do to get him back to normal?"

"_Well_," Insano replied, "_I've got Doctor Tease and the Professor running a few calculations through Nimue about possible causes for what happened. So far, they're theorizing that after your encounter with Snob, Malachite figured that you would inevitably find another missing reviewer, so before you arrived here, he ordered either of his minions to cast an additional spell on them, which would activate in case of an emergency."_

"So the cannon's practically useless now?" MarzGurl sighed, "Well, that's just great!"

"_That's not necessarily true_," Insano countered, "_According to my own hypothesis, I figure that once the secondary spell is activated, its protection immediately becomes negated, therefore, all you need to do is defeat Welshy and he should return back to normal."_

"That just raises another problem, doesn't it? I'm pretty sure that our weapons are useless against him, and even if we did use the cannon again, I doubt that'd be enough energy to even put a dent in the spell core."

"_True, true," _Insano replied, barely able to contain a giggle, "_But fortunately for you, while you've been running around in that dimension, we've been working on a little something just in case you guys ran into this problem."_

"Wonderful," MarzGurl said, "What is it?"

"_Did Linkara ever tell you,"_ Insano asked, "_That roughly around the same time that the other scientists and I left your dimension that Neutro also went missing as well?"_

"No," MarzGurl replied slowly, as a small grin spread across her face "He didn't say anything about that."

"_Well,"_ Insano continued, also grinning, "_We took it! Linksano helped me steal it back from Linkara when he stole it from me. Serves comic-boy right for taking stuff that isn't his! Anyways, we've made some modifications and additions to it in order to give it the capabilities of the rest of your arsenal, as well as make it possible for all five of you to pilot. We've got it programmed into your morphers. All you have to do is call on it…"_

"Awesome!" MarzGurl replied, "Thanks guys!"

Insano's reply was cut off by another thunderous cracking sound as one of Welshy's hands, now morphed into giant tentacles, and wrapped itself around the peak of the mountain, causing heavy boulders to tumble down the mountainside, showering the cliff in a thick cloud of brown and gray dust.

By now, they noticed, Tegon and Devafen had long since disappeared, probably hiding somewhere in order to avoid getting crushed in the landslide.

"Damn," Linkara swore as the dirt-fog cleared, "We need Megazord power, now!"

"News flash, genius," Critic replied, "We don't have a Megazord!"

"Actually," MarzGurl corrected as she joined the group, "We do."

Hurriedly, the Blue Ranger relayed a summary of the conversation between Doctor Insano and herself.

"So," Critic asked once she was finished, "How are we supposed to call this thing, anyways?"

"Probably in about the same way that we morph," Chick guessed, "Or do much of anything with these gizmos; A couple arm movements, tap in something on the keypad and shout something really stupid sounding at the top of our lungs."

"Well," Critic replied, clapping his hands together, "Let's give it a try."

Once again, the group nodded in agreement as they yet again summoned their morphers. Just like when they had morphed for the first time, a sort of trance overcame them, guiding their movements as they tapped in the appropriate code in their morphers, before raising their other hand to the sky.

"We need Neutro Megazord Power," the five cried out in perfect unison, "Now!"

Five bursts of rainbow light barreled from their morphers, streaking across the sky like five shooting stars. The five starbursts circled one another, as a swirling vortex, much larger than any of them had ever seen, appeared in the center of the circle.

From this vortex, a large figure descended. It looked like something out of an old science fiction film, with pointed metal ears protruding from its bucket-like head. Its body, made of shining metal, glinted majestically in the light of the rapidly closing vortex, casting an array of blues, reds and silvers over the scene.

A golden beam of light shot from the emblem on the robot's chest catching the five reviewers in its glow. Without even really realizing it, they were teleported away from the cliff, only to reappear in a very small room with five large computer consoles that took up most of the space.

Various charts and graphs appeared on the monitors that aligned the walls of the circular room, giving readouts on what they could only assume were the stats of the robot as well as that of its opponent. Behind them there was a large, rectangular door emblazoned with a circular seal with a lightning bolt etched across it. They assumed that this was probably the emergency exit

Two large, eye-shaped windows looked out over the island, confirming that they were indeed inside Neutro's head.

Five chairs that dotted the two curved terminals—three on the upper terminal, while two narrow ramps lead down two the remaining two, which were stationed on either side of the central console.

Just to one side of each of them, a joystick with at least four buttons jutted out of the terminals. Dotting each terminal, several multicolored buttons flashed in rhythmic patterns like a lighted dance floor to some unheard song, filling the air with soft bleeps and hums.

"It sure is a bit different than when I had this thing," Linkara said as he and Chick walked down the ramps and took a seat at either of the lower consoles, "Not bad though."

"Are you kidding?" MarzGurl said as she and Spoony took their seats on either side of Critic on the two side consoles that composed two-thirds of the upper area, "We have our own freakin' Megazord! This kicks so much ass! Guess this officially means we're Power Rangers now, huh?"

"Alright everyone," Critic said, assuming an air of military-like leadership that he usually seemed to reserve for when he gave orders, "Let's show everyone what five internet dorks with a giant robot can do! Activating Neutro Megazord: Battle Mode!"

Outside, the giant robot's eyes flashed red as it lurched forward. Welshy turned away from destroying the mountain as he sensed a new presence enter the large clearing he stood in.

As if guided by some animal instinct, the transformed reviewer tensed up, striking a battle pose as he and the giant robot carefully circled one another, searching for the briefest moment of weakness in their guard.

With a roar, Welshy dashed toward Neutro, landing a fierce punch across its chest that sent the robot stumbling back a few steps as sparks flew from the impact zone. However, the human-controlled robot quickly recovered and countered with a set of punches of its own.

More sparks flew as the two titans exchanged hits in a desperate struggle to do the most damage to the other one as quickly as possible. Another animalistic growl emitted from the monster's mouth (or what passed for a mouth) as he pulled back.

His distance, unfortunately, was not an indication of surrender, but rather to prepare himself for a new tactic. Like before, two large tentacles extended from his arms, wrapping themselves around the robot's neck and waist. Volts of bluish electricity surged through the tentacles, burning its way though to the armor of the Megazord.

Both inside and outside of the robot, sparks erupted as the Rangers frantically pressed buttons and switches as they tried to keep themselves afloat.

"Damage reports say," Chick reported, over another violent jolt, "That power levels are at seventy-nine percent and dropping rapidly. He's siphoning our own energy and reflecting it right back at us!"

"Damn it," Critic growled, as he flipped a few switches, "If this keeps up, we're dead! There's gotta be a way to make him let go of us! Anybody got any bright ideas?"

"Leave it to me," Spoony replied as he gripped the controls, moving and pressing them as if he were playing an arcade game, "I'll teach this bastard not to mess with the Lord of _Tekken_!"

With a mighty lurch, one of Neutro's arms raised, grabbing the monster-reviewer's tentacles, and suddenly spun quickly, swinging him in the same direction. Welshy, taken off guard by this sudden movement, released his grip on the giant robot as he toppled onto the ground just feet away from the mountain.

Quickly, he recovered and charged at the robot again. But this time, the Rangers were ready for him, landing a few swift punches and kicks as they countered his attack.

Soon, the signs of fatigue were beginning to show, as his stance seemed to have become a bit more slouched, and his breathing a bit more ragged and heavy. It was then, the Rangers knew, that the battle was nearly over, and there was just one more thing left to do.

"Neutro Megazord Final Attack Sequence," The five shouted in unison as they raised their arms, "Initiated!"

Now, Neutro's eyes flashed with a white light that probably could have caused seizures, if it were just a little faster. The robot also raised its arms into the air, as if mimicking its five pilots, before it struck a fierce battle pose.

The robot's fist and feet began to glow with white hot energy as it landed a series of hits on the transformed reviewer, immobilizing him in place.

Next, the robot crossed its arms across its chest as a rainbow colored light charged inside the golden emblem in its chest. Its metallic body hummed as the energy built up within it became too intense for it to contain. The robot uncrossed its arms as a prismatic beam of light exploded forth, piercing through the giant monster-form of their co-worker, before surrounding him in its radiance.

Explosions erupted in the sky like fireworks as the effects of the beam faded. The Rangers held their breath as they watched, praying that they hadn't accidentally caused their fellow reviewer to go up in flames.

Luckily, as the smoke cleared, they spotted Welshy, laying unconscious amidst the rubble created by the explosion. He was completely back to normal, they noted; no longer being a giant monster.

Inside the cockpit of the Megazord, the five Rangers cheered, now completely assured that it was safe to do so. However, a small voice in their minds argued for caution. After all, they might have won this battle, but it was guaranteed that Malachite was not going to let this slide, and next time it was likely that something even more sinister was bound to happen.

But, for now, they reasoned, that wasn't something that they were going to let get them down. They were just glad that they managed to survive another battle.

* * *

><p>It was shortly afterward that the Rangers were gathered inside of Bloodbeard Joe's hideout. Tegon and Devafen were no-where to be found, and it was assumed that they had fled once Welshy had returned to normal.<p>

For the first time since they'd arrived in this dimension, Chick actually felt happy to be stuck in a crowded space with a bunch of raucous pirates. Somehow, the noise and the smell (while both somewhat unpleasant to her regular senses) seemed comforting to her. It reminded her that even the worst, most uncomfortable situations, were welcoming when compared to just how many times she and the others had come close to dying that day.

Of course, if anyone asked her, she'd say that it was just because she was glad that her current company wasn't trying to murder her.

She winced as a sudden whine of an accordion echoed off the stone wall of the cavern-like hideout, followed by a sudden joyful cry of singing. She smiled as she heard Critic and Linkara's voices standing out among the hopelessly off-key, but enthusiastic choir.

On the other side of her, Spoony and Jack seemed to be boasting to one another about their adventures over a pint of ale, while MarzGurl and Bill rolled their eyes, exchanging snide but good natured remarks about their two companions.

Melody, waved at the Pink Ranger as she and the Captain sat at another table, examining a map as they discussed what to do, now that their crew numbers were greatly reduced, as well as how they were going to avoid being deceived by such magical spells again.

"Hey," Welshy said, coming up to sit down beside her, "Mind if I sit here?"

"Sure," Chick replied, "Go ahead."

A mild sadness overcame her as she watched the reviewer sit down, taking in the room with interest. It must have been difficult for him, she thought, to realize that everything he thought he knew was a lie.

And, although it was probably a small comfort to have regained the memories of his previous life, it didn't do much to ease the knowledge of what fate awaited him once he returned back to Insano's dimension with the others.

He'd have to be placed into stasis, like Snob had, she knew. Of course, this wasn't a mystery to Welshy either, as that they had explained everything to him once he had managed to regain consciousness. Sure, he'd been just a little saddened by the fact that he wouldn't be able to return to his home dimension, but he understood why this was necessary, and eventually agreed to it.

"Hey," Welshy said, interrupting her thoughts, "I just wanted to say thanks for helping me back there. You know, remembering who I was and all."

"No problem," Chick smiled, "That's apparently my job, now. And, anyways, I should be thanking you. I'd probably still be stuck in that cell if it weren't for you."

"Yeah," Welshy laughed, "Seeing as that lizardy looking bloke kept eyeing you like Thanksgiving dinner; I'm guessing that you weren't to fond of the idea of staying in the same room as him."

"Definitely not," Chick said, "I mean, I_ was_ the one who gave him that nasty looking scar on his face. And here I bet you were just thinking he naturally looked ugly."

The two of them laughed, before falling silent again.

"Yeah," Welshy sighed, adjusting his glasses "It was kind of freaky when that guy turned me into a monster and everything. I'm just glad that I was unconscious through most of it."

"Yeah," Chick replied, suddenly growing quiet.

Admittedly, she didn't want to think about Malachite or any of the spells that he and his army were capable of casting at the moment.

Even as a woman who prided herself on not being scared easily, the whole thing kind of left her feeling uneasy.

After all, Malachite had been able to alter their memories without them even realizing it. And it wasn't just little things—like them thinking they'd parked their car two spaces over, or that they had grape juice for breakfast instead of orange—it was major stuff, like never having met certain people or remembering important life events from their past.

If Malachite was capable of effectively altering the past, Chick thought, what was to stop him from inflicting fates that would have made death seem kinder in comparison, should they be defeated by him? What was to stop him from essentially making it so that they never existed by wiping all memories of their existence out of the minds of everyone who ever knew them.

What was to stop him from sealing them away in something, like he'd done with Chuck Jaffers, the man who'd written the role-playing game that had forced their destinies to cross paths with the evil sorcerer's, leaving them immortal and unable to escape?

What was to stop him from altering their minds to the point that nothing, not even the slightest ounce of free will was left, turning them into mindless and soulless puppets for Malachite to control?

No, she shook her head violently, she wouldn't let that happen. They have the power to stop that from happening, she told herself, so she wasn't going to waste that by letting herself be overrun by something as pointless as fear. She was a much stronger person than that.

Her thoughts once more scattered to the four winds as Critic tapped her on the shoulder.

"It's getting late," Critic said, "And we've got a long way back to the portal. And I for one don't want to be wandering around this jungle at night. God knows that there's probably a few panthers that are pissed 'cause we disturbed their afternoon naps during the fight earlier."

"Okay," Chick said, reluctantly standing up, "But, we should probably go say goodbye to Bill, Jack and the others before we do. Or at the very least give Welshy a chance to say bye."

Nodding, Critic and the others made their way over to the Captain's table, where now he and Melody were joined by Bill and Jack.

"Ah," the captain said, "So yer leavin' us eh? We're gonna miss havin' ye around here. Even if ye weren't really a part of our crew."

"Yeah," Spoony smirked, "Well, we're going to miss you guys, too. Even if you did try to kill me and everything."

The captain grinned sheepishly as a faint blush of red appeared on his weatherworn cheeks.

"Here," Critic said, drawing something out of his pocket and giving it to Bill and Jack, "I figured I should probably give you guys something for helping us find Welshy and save Chick and Spoony and everything."

Bill's eyebrow rose skeptically as he examined the object that his doppelganger had given him. It was a small, wrist-watch like device. However, no numbers decorated its flat, round face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a communicator," Linkara explained"Doctor Insano and the others whipped these up for you guys. Just press that button on the side there and you should be able to contact us. I hope."

"Ah," Jack said, fastening the watch around his wrist, "Interesting. Thank you."

"If you guys ever need anything," MarzGurl said, "Don't be afraid to call us. Just don't call all the time, you know? We've got to sleep sometime, too."

The two laughed, as they thanked the Rangers for their gift.

An awkward silence hung briefly over the table, as neither group wanted to be the last one to say goodbye. As much as the reviewers wished that they could stay a bit longer, they knew that they couldn't. After all, they still had a mission that was yet to be completed, that they needed to focus on. Besides, Insano and the others would probably get worried about them if days passed without them ever returning.

"Well," Welshy said, breaking the silence, "Thanks for letting me stay with your crew while I was here, even though you guys didn't really have a choice. It was fun, though. I guess I'll see you around, then?"

"I guess that this is goodbye then," the captain said, bowing his head, "Good luck to ye, Welshy. And good luck to ye, too, friends of Welshy. If you ever need our help again, ye know that we're here for ye. Might not understand anything ye need help with, but we're here all the same."

"Likewise," Critic said, also bowing his head.

With that word of parting, the five Rangers and their revived co-worker walked away, disappearing through the door, knowing that—while it might be some time in the far future—it would not be the last time that they ever would see Bloodbeard Joe or his crew again.

* * *

><p><em>Trivia<em>: _Melody was an original character from a failed online role playing game that I attempted to run a while back on some forums a year back. Basically, she was a very tall, very short tempered ex-pirate turned knight captain. I really kind of liked the character (Even if she was a minor character in that RPG, too), so I wanted to include her in one of my other stories. Originally, I was just going to write her as scorned ex-lover of Jack's that would disappear after the inn scene, but as other elements of the chapter developed, I ended up expanding her part a bit, and made her Bloodbeard Joe's second-in-command._


	5. Chapter 4: Not So Happy Days

_**Esa: **__It's your new co-writer, EsaEnai. Zeshaika has allowed me to help her work on this awesome story, and this chapter was co-written by me. I hope I don't let all of you down. Feel free to check out my stuff: for Doctor Who/ LOTR fans, __**"Into the Fire,"**__ and (co-written with Miss Zeshaika!) a TGWTG AU, __**"It's Kind of a Funny Story."**__ Peace out, girl scout._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 4:<strong>__** Not So Happy Days**_

Linkara had once come across a study on human perception in subjects had been forced to wear goggles that inverted everything they saw; turned their field of vision totally upside down. Eventually, they reported that everything they saw had become right-side up once again. Just went to show that the human mind could adapt itself to almost everything.

Of course, he didn't know if that was true or not. On one hand, he had adapted to quite a lot of oddities in his life: magic, conquering, defecting from and then re-conquering a micronation, and recently, everything in his life being a lie and becoming a pseudo-Power Ranger and trans-dimensional traveler.

On the other hand, he didn't think he could _ever_ really adapt to working with Doctor Insano.

The mad scientist wasn't making it easy, after all. Insano was reveling in the fact that essentially, all of the reviewers now depended on him; Linkara would have called it a God Complex, but it was more like a Petulant Toddler Complex. Insano was loud and sullen in turns, going from giggling madly to berating the critics in such quick progression it almost gave them whiplash. And, to his own irritation, Linkara was receiving the worst of it.

What was worse, Insano seemed to find Linkara's reluctance to work with him absolutely hilarious. For Insano, nothing was funnier than an admitted enemy being in debt to him, let alone at the mercy of his own commands. The comic book reviewer didn't know how much longer he could take it. Every high-pitched manic giggle, every under-the-breath muttering of threatening scientific jargon, every moment spent with his arch enemy made his skin start to crawl.

He had been taking extra time in the Training Room to work off the stress, but a punching bag could only do so much.

The two of them were sharing close quarters for hours on end, every second devoted to rebooting Nimue and getting her back online. Connecting her to the mainframe and communications outlet had fried something in her circuits and they were desperately trying to fix it before the other shoe dropped. Celluloid had tried to help, but after being compared to a Rhesus monkey by Insano, he not-so-graciously bowed out and bolted, muttering darkly in German, leaving the two left to their own devices—quite literally.

"Try it again," Insano was said to him, goggles skewed and forehead smeared with grease. They were currently elbow-deep in computer guts, wires spread everywhere and the occasional spark buzzing through the air. Nimue sat in front of him, red light worryingly dark.

Linkara jerked himself from his own thoughts. "Huh?"

"Try it again.," Insano gave him a bored look. "Unless that's too difficult for you. I could always give you a simpler task. Like tying your shoes or picking an outfit that doesn't make you look like either a fat lumberjack or a dirty liquor store pervert. You know there are patterns beside plaid, don't you?"

Linkara bit back an insult and leaned towards Nimue.

"Computer," he commanded. "Activate Nimue AI."

There were a few small beeps, and Nimue's light slowly grew to a bright red. Linkara grinned. Finally…

"_This unit is now online,"_ Nimue's automated voice intoned over the speakers, _"And will begin accepting…"_

The voice went silent. Linkara felt his hope begin to dwindle like a puddle in the desert sunlight. Insano muttered and taped a few buttons.

"_And will begin accepting command…" _Nimue spoke again, her voice distorted and stuttering, "_command-and-and-andandand-"_

With a bright flash of light and a loud pop, the console in front of Nimue erupted into smoke and electricity, filling the room with the scent of smoke and fried metal. Linkara let out a shout as the ends of his sleeves started to smolder and Insano screeched, slamming his hand down on the console. The electricity died down, and the lab went silent for a moment, Linkara examined his jacket, barely containing his anger.

"Alright," Insano muttered to himself, as he dusted his singled labcoat "So, that didn't really work."

"Didn't really work?" Linkara spat out. "_Didn't really work?!_ That's the biggest understatement since the Captain of the Hindenburg said _'I smell gas'_!"

Insano scowled. "Well, excuse me! You're lucky I'm even helping you with this hunk of metal! This AI is so inadequately constructed, it may as well be a Cuisinart!"

"_You_ want to talk about poorly-constructed technology?" Linkara growled, pointing a finger in Insano's face. "How's that Creature of Unimaginable Terror coming along? Still tiny and pink? Still hopping around the kitchen squealing _rikki-tee_? Real good job there. Be careful everyone; he may snuggle you to death."

"Don't you bring my son into this!" Insano screeched.

"Whoa," a voice deadpanned from the doorway. "Catfight."

The two spun around to find Spoony looking dryly at them, as he leaned in the doorway, his eyes lingering on the charred computer behind.

"So," He said, smirking a little despite himself, "I figured something was going to blow up whenever you two are in the same room together. I take it Nimue's still on the fritz?"

Insano scowled at him, turning back to his console," Not now, Spoony One."

"Loathe as I am to agree," Linkara said, rolling his eyes, "I'm not in the mood for sarcasm."

Spoony shrugged, and Linkara noticed an odd, and slightly disconcerting stiffness in his movement, like he had something he really wanted to say. Linkara tried to shake it out of his mind, telling himself that he'd talk to Spoony later, provided Insano ever let him take a break.

"Sure," Spoony shrugged nonchalantly, "Just… bored, I guess."

"What do you want, a cookie?" Insano snapped without turning around. "Go bother someone else."

"Ignore him," Linkara offered his despondent friend a smirk, "I'm the one he's pissed at."

Spoony smirked back, but it didn't meet his eyes.

"Pretty sure," He said, "any dad would react negatively if you called their son 'poorly constructed'."

"Damn straight," Insano muttered. "You're lucky I don't have any plutonium on me. Ugh, I actually would have preferred that cotton-candy haired baboon of a professor working with me. But no, I get comic-boy…"

"Where's everyone else?" Linkara said over Insano's death threats. "I mean, I assume Celluloid is still sulking."

"Like a baby," the gamer replied "Tease is off doing God-knows what and took SOI, Burton and Pollo with her, and Critic and Chick are in the Training Room. He challenged her to a kick-boxing match. She beat him in around a minute and they're currently on their tenth rematch. Might be twelfth by now. Marz started off as a referee, but she was making popcorn when I left."

"If you don't mind getting your hair singed to a crisp," Linkara chuckled, waving a hand toward the currently offline Nimue, "You're welcome to hang out here and help us get Nimue connected to communications."

"Says who?" Insano said over his shoulder. "I can barely handle one of you at a time."

"Dude," Spoony shot back, "You lived in my basement!"

"And I did my best to ignore you, don't I?" Insano responded, "Off with you, Spoony One."

Spoony crossed his arms defiantly, determined not to leave just yet. "Says who?"

"Linkara," Insano said impatiently. "Kick Spoony out or I'll make your precious Nimue speak in a Jamaican accent. Or maybe solely in Japanese."

"Dude," Linkara gave Spoony a desperate look. "… please?"

Spoony looked incredulous. Linkara had to kidding him. They were best friends, or they were supposed to be, anyways. It was almost like a slap in the face for him to be all of a sudden changing his mind to say he didn't want Spoony hanging around.

"You're agreeing with him?!" Spoony asked, "You do realize that it's Insano you're agreeing with here right? The same guy who's tried to kill both of us more than once? And you want to be alone in here with him?"

"I mean… no, but… Spoony, he'd _do_ it."

Spoony's eyes grew dark, as a deep hurtful scowl curved the corners of his mouth. Linkara winced uncomfortably, momentarily taken over by a sudden wave of guilt and sympathy for his friend.

"Fine," Spoony muttered darkly, letting the sentence hang in the air as he left, the door sliding behind him with a thud that seemed heavier than usual, "If you'd rather spend time with your arch enemy…"

"What a drama queen," Insano muttered, stripping a wire and immediately electrocuting himself with a low hiss.

"I hate you," Linkara snapped at him, "You know that, right?"

"The feelings are mutual," the mad scientist assured him. "Now, try it again."

* * *

><p>The Training Room was a relatively new discovery by the reviewers, and they were making use of it more often than they had expected. After all, Nexus headquarters had a limited supply of entertainment fodder. Spoony and Critic had already thrown a short fit over not having an Xbox, so there was not much else to do than wait, nap, and train.<p>

Everything from a pommel horse to automatic sparring dummies was in the large space, but only one corner was currently occupied. Mats had been spread haphazardly over the floor, the rest stacked in a throne for Marzgurl, while Critic and Chick sparred in the center of the mats on the floor.

More accurately, Chick was sparring and Critic was trying to avoid breaking something. She had already beaten him eight times, losing only once when she tripped and he planted a foot on her back before she could get up.

"Critic, I'm sorry," Marzgurl commented from the sidelines, sitting cross-legged on a pile of mats, as the Red Ranger picked himself up for what seemed like the hundredth time, "But this just looped around from being pathetic, to funny, and now it's back to being pathetic again."

"It's not my fault he fights like a bitch," Chick called between punches and kicks. "And he started it."

"I… don't fight… like a bitch! _You're_… a bitch!" Critic huffed, throwing a right hook.

Chick easily ducked under it and jabbed him hard in the stomach with a fierce punch. He hissed and elbowed her in the side.

"Guys, come on." Marzgurl ate another handful of popcorn as Chick gouged her fist into Critic's gut. "Can we stop before there's any part on Critic's body that isn't going to be bruised to hell?"

"Not until I win," Critic said, lunging at the Chick again. She dodged away, looking bored.

"Maybe if you actually tried _blocking_ once in a while, you'd have an easier time. You fight like a bear with roid-rage," Chick said dryly. "Play defense."

"Who died," Critic snarked, feinting left and throwing a hard punch, "And made you Queen of Combat?"

Chick grinned and grabbed him by the elbow, using his momentum to push him past her to the ground. He landed flat on his stomach with an _oomph_.

"At least I have _strategy_," she said offhandedly, walking back over to the mats and grabbing her water bottle. "Your strategy is probably just _'see thing, punch thing' _or, failing that there's the ever so brilliant '_see thing, kick thing' _maneuver. What's the score, Marz?"

"Nine to one. Match, and game," MarzGurl grinned as she gave Critic a faux sympathetic look, "And you were so close, too."

"Shut up," Critic groaned as he weakly tried to pry himself up off of the mat, "I'm your leader. Can't I get a little respect? Or at least a break?

"Who said you're our leader?" Marzgurl asked. "I must have missed that election."

"I'm the Red Ranger," Critic said impatiently, gesturing at his red t-shirt. "Red Ranger is always the leader."

"Don't let Linkara hear you say that," Chick smirked, "He'll go on for hours about which non-Red Rangers were leaders of what teams."

"Yeah, on that topic- anyone else a little weirded out that all our wardrobes are color-coded now?" Marzgurl pulled at her blue shorts, "My closet looks like a Smurf exploded."

"Hey," Critic said, ignoring Marzgurl, "Nobody else called dibs on being leader, so I had to."

"We're a team, honey," Chick said in a sweet tone that meant _I'm very close to killing you_. "That means we listen to you, but I can still kick your ass on a regular basis. Plus- there's no 'I' in team."

Critic shrugged. "There's an 'I' in "win," though."

Luckily, the alarm went off before Chick could show him that there was also an "I" in "pain," and the entire team hurried to the command center.

Tease was already in a seat, typing at the computer in front of her with startling speed. "A new energy signature popped up- we're just getting a trace on it now. Celluloid, pull up the visual."

"Why?" Celluloid muttered, glaring at Insano. "Wouldn't you prefer a monkey do it?"

"Why?" Insano snarked. "Do you have one?"

"Boys," Tease chided, and the visual soon appeared on screen- a crimson dot, pulsing brightly, "We believe it's your associate, Bennett the Sage."

This was met with silence. Marzgurl coughed. Tease turned towards them, confused.

"You aren't happy to hear this news?" she asked.

"I mean," Spoony said hesitantly, "Sage isn't exactly… the easiest guy to get along with. To put it nicely… he's a fucking psychopath."

"He imprisoned JesuOtaku and forced to watch bad anime until she almost lost it," MarzGurl explained, "He's done the same thing to Spoony more than once, too."

"Don't remind me," Spoony shuddered, as he remembered being forced to watch _Garzey's Wing_ with Sage.

"He's pretended to be the Devil more than once," Chick said off-handedly, "Though, that's probably the least offensive thing he's done, strangely."

"He took over That Guy's show and may have tortured him for a few hours." Critic added, shrugging off everyone's surprise, "To be fair, he pretty much deserved it."

"Sane or not, he's in danger," Linkara interrupted. "It's our responsibility to rescue him. As Nexus Rangers-"

"You just want any excuse to wear those Power Ranger suits," Spoony interrupted with an eye-roll, "Don't you?"

Linkara scowled at him, as Insano began typing at the computer.

"Linkara is right," Insano said, "And yes, I can't believe I said that either."

The mad scientist pressed a final button, and the reviewer's wrist cuffs started to beep. "Happy days, everyone," he said, and started to giggle.

"What's so funny?" Linkara asked.

"Nothing," Insano said, giggling as the reviewers started to blink out of existence. "You'll see."

* * *

><p>There was something wrong, and Chick could feel it in her bones. Well, her bones, her stomach, her pancreas- every part of her body.<p>

"Energizing," as Linkara had taken to calling it, wasn't exactly a pleasant experience to begin with. To her it sort of like being simultaneously spread out like a pizza and squeezed through a straw. But it was at least a short unpleasant experience, only lasting a few moments before Insano and Co. dropped her off in the next weird universe.

Admittedly, they'd only recently started using it, as that they had just recently managed to install an effective teleporter. They figured that it was probably a little more effective than using portals, since the energy distortions from portals were easier to detect, and more difficult to get to.

So, either way, she wasn't fully used to it just yet.

But this time- this time was different. She felt hot and cold in nauseating turns, and direction and space lost all meaning. Odd sounds whipped by her ears too quickly to differentiate, and once she could have sworn she was covered in stone, then fire, then ice.

Her first impression was that she was dying- Insano had finally screwed the pooch and turned the reviewers into piles of ash. This was only reinforced as her body finally reappeared again and she realized she was lying on her back, eyes closed. What the hell was this? Was she in heaven?

"Chick." Critic's voice said in her ear, "Get up,"

"Darn it," she muttered, eyes still closed. "I'm in Hell, aren't I?"

"You wish," she heard Critic chuckle, "Get the fudge up."

At this, Chick's eyes snapped open. "Fudge? What do you…"

She found herself unable to finish her sentence, baffled by the new appearance of her boss. Critic was wearing a sweater and slacks. His hat was gone, and what was left of his hair had been slicked back with copious amounts of shiny gel.

He was also completely black and white. As was everything else, from the sky to the dirt under their feet. They were sitting on the ground next to a street, in the middle of monochromatic nowhere.

…._Definitely Hell_, she thought, _or at the very least: Purgatory._

"What the fudge happened to you?!" Chick asked frantically, trying to stand up and tripping on yards of fabric. She looked down and wrinkled her nose. "A poodle skirt? _Really_?"

"You're lucky," Critic grumbled, poking gingerly at his hair. "My head feels like a soft-serve cone. Where are we? Where's everybody else?"

"Dunno about everybody else, but here I am," Linkara said from behind them. He was walking towards them, pulling at a sweater and grimacing. "I'm with you on the hair thing. This goop is disgusting."

"Forget your hair for a second," Chick hissed, spinning on the spot. "Where the fudge are Spoony and Marzgurl?"

The men stared at her in shocked silence for a second, only able to blink confusedly, questioning her odd choice of words.

"_Fudge_?" Linkara asked finally, as the Pink Ranger gave them an odd look.

"What?" she said, "I didn't say fudge. I said _fudge_."

At this, Chick slapped a hand over her mouth, as her eyes widened in shock. Slowly a look of horror crept over her face, she removed her hand, trying again. "What the fudge- darn it!"

A thoughtful look passed over his face for a moment before Critic joined in.

"Fudge. Darn. Shoot." He let out an incredulous laugh, "Well, motherfudger. I don't think we can swear in this universe."

"Odd," Linkara commented, trying to suppress a grin. "But I don't think _I'll_ have much of an issue."

"Shut the fudge up," Chick said peevishly, just as the Critic's morpher started to beep. He tapped it.

"Spoony? Marzgurl?" he asked "Is that you?"

"Visual communications must be down," Chick said to herself, frowning as she examined the screens on both her and Critic's morphers.

"_Critic?" _Insano's whine echoed out to them. _"At least we got you to the same universe alright. Are Linkara and Nostalgia Chick with you?"_

"We're here, Insano," Linkara called. "But where's Spoony and Marz?"

"_Your stupid AI fried more than just the communications circuit, Linkara!"_ Insano snapped through some static, _"It's compromised the entire Nexus network! We couldn't keep track of the five of you long enough to get you to the same place. You're lucky you're not smeared across the space time continuum!"_

"Spoony. Marzgurl," Linkara snapped, "Where?"

Insano sighed, setting off another burst of static. _"I'm not sure; from what I can gather, you're about thirty miles from them. But as to what direction, I don't know. I don't even know where __you__ are!"_

"We're next to a street, or a highway somewhere," Critic said, slowly turning on the spot. "Hang on, there's a street sign across the way… twenty miles to…" The Critic let out a low, incredulous groan. "_Pleasantville?_ Are you kidding me?"

"Didn't one of the actors from _Power Rangers In Space_ cameo in that movie?" Linkara mused aloud, mostly to himself.

Insano's giggle could be heard loud and clear through the crackling white noise.

"_Oh, didn't I tell you?" _he chuckled, "_As far as we know, your current universe is remarkably similar to 1950's America- or rather, the media's perception of 1950's America. No cursing, no danger-"_

"—No color," Critic finished.

"Which explains," Linkara deadpanned, "why everything looks like Rainbow Brite's enemy just went on a rampage."

"Oh, I get it now- _Happy Days_. You're hysterical," Chick snapped at Insano, who merely giggled. "What the heck are we supposed to do now?"

"_Get into town, o-viously,"_ Insano said, his voice starting to break up into static. The reviewers strained to hear him. _"Wait… hang o-on… we ju- got a new re-out o- the com-uter. Oh, n- lis-en!... the school! Unstab-"_

Critic tried tapping a few buttons. "Insano? You're breaking up."

"…_school! Fi- Spoo- Mar- damn-_!" And with that, the feed dropped to pure static. The reviewers let out a collective groan, but there was no getting the audio feed back.

"What now?" Chick asked. "I heard 'school'- we should start there."

"How are we supposed to get there?" Linkara asked, rubbing his head and wincing at the slimy gel. "It's twenty miles away, minimum."

"This is fifties-sitcom world, remember?" Chick said, casually sticking out a hand and waving down the road. "The era before people discovered muggers and rapists."

Sure enough, a jalopy pulled up next to the three of them, a pair of saccharinely grinning teenagers in the front seat. At least, they acted and dressed like teenagers. Each of them looked to be around thirty years old. But then, Chick mused, so did most actors who played teenagers in sitcoms. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to fit in at a high school after all.

"Hey, there!" the boy said in a voice a little too happy to be normal. "Where're you headed?"

"The high school," Chick answered promptly, stretching her own mouth into a wide smile. The girl in the front seat of the car giggled, though nothing seemed too funny.

"Well, of course they are, Chip!" she told her date, who blushed at her. "Where else would they be going?"

And, to their horror, in each of the reviewer's minds they heard the familiar sound of canned laughter.

"_A laugh track?"_ Linkara moaned. "You've got to be kidding."

"Fifties sitcom," Chick reminded him, opening the door to the jalopy and pushing the boys inside, "We should have seen it coming."

"Great," Critic mumbled, rolling his eyes, "now the universe itself is laughing at us."

"My name is Chip Goodman," the boy told them, pulling back onto the road. "And this is my steady girl, Missy. What are your names?"

"I'm… uh… Richie Cunningham," Critic said awkwardly. "And these are my friends, Joanie and… Ralph."

"Nice to meet you!" Missy giggled again, waving at them. "Are you excited for the big game against Riverside tonight?"

"Gee, am I!" Chick said with a fake smile. "Sure hope we win."

"We _always_ win against Riverside, Joanie! Those Broncos don't know a football from a mothball!" Chip said cheerfully, and the laugh track went off again. Meanwhile, Linkara was glaring at Critic.

"Ralph?" he hissed. "I have to be _Ralph_?"

Critic shrugged. "Would you rather be Potsie?"

* * *

><p>Elsewhere, Marzgurl was pretty sure that she wasn't dead, considering she could hear. But why was she hearing the faint strains of swing music? She was pretty sure that the only type of music she ever heard in the command center was the sound of machine noises and computers—and that didn't even really qualify as music by any stretch.<p>

She opened her eyes to find herself staring directly into another pair, the irises strangely grey. There was the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"Marz," Spoony muttered, "You're standing on my feet."

Marzgurl backed up quickly- a bad idea, as she slammed her head directly into a brick wall. Vision going fuzzy and stars winking in her eyes, she groaned and slid down the wall.

"Darn it," she swore- or, attempted to at least. Slowly, she opened her eyes again and blinked.

And blinked again, hard.

"Spoony?" she asked, "How hard did I hit my head?"

Everything was black and white. _Everything._ Even Spoony, from his new leather jacket to his shiny, greased hair. He was crouching in front of her, giving her something between a smile and a grimace.

"You're not concussed. It really is…" he said as he looked around, whistling a little. "…_retro_ out here."

"In more ways than one," Marzgurl commented, looking down at her new silk jacket. She scanned the alleyway- no one in sight, "Where's everyone else?"

"No clue," Spoony said, pulling her to her feet. "My guess? Insano finally screwed up and turned them into color-coordinated pudding."

"That's not funny."

The two squeezed out of the thin alleyway, looking in wonder at the newly black and white world. Jalopies putt-putted down a shockingly clean street. Businessmen yelled "howdy-doo" to one another, neither one pushing anyone else to get to work on time. Women pushed baby carriages into traffic without fear of being hit, and schoolchildren skipped down sidewalks without being mercilessly teased. Needless to say, the two critics were speechless.

"Jesus H. Tap-dancing Christ…" Spoony whistled, "It's like if Norman Rockwell threw up on the Brady Bunch."

"Wholesome enough to give you diabetes," Marzgurl mused, taking a look around. "No way anywhere in America is or was EVER this… _picture-perfect_."

"Or anywhere on Earth, for that matter," Spoony agreed, as two little boys sprinted past them in itchy-looking sweaters. "Where the heck are we?"

The gamer's question ended up answering itself as at that moment, an open-topped car turned onto the street, several teenagers dressed in letterman's sweaters standing up with no apparent fear. They were laughing and hollering, waving pennants and throwing a football back and forth between them. A hand-painted sign on the side of the car proclaimed, "_Pleasantville Grizzlies!_"

"_Pleasantville?"_ Spoony and Marzgurl said at the same time, as the car turned the corner and puttered away.

"Oh, God… _Pleasantville_. I saw that movie." Marzgurl groaned and slapped a hand to her forehead, "Toby Maguire and Reese Witherspoon got stuck in some fifties sitcom world."

"We're stuck in a sitcom?" Spoony gave a chuckle, no humor behind it at all, "Insano's probably having a field day."

Something seemed to catch his eye, and the two craned their necks to find a few nerdy-looking boys staring at them. One of them pushed a pair of taped-up glasses up his nose. Spoony's eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" He asked, coming off just a little more abrasive than expected.

The nerds practically fell over each other as they took a collaborative step backwards. "N-nothing," one of them said in a nasally voice. "Uh… nice leather?"

Spoony tilted his head, and then something seemed to click into place. "Uh… yeah. Yeah, 'course it is," the gamer said in a tough voice, "You nerds want something, or are you just wasting air?"

The boys quickly spat out apologies, hurrying away. Marzgurl bit back a giggle, giving her friend a smirk.

"What was that?" she asked.

"We're disguised as greasers in a fifties sitcom world, and Critic isn't here to yell at us." He grinned back, "I say we get into character."

Marzgurl sighed, turning around. "So, what now? Where do we look for everyone? Where do we start?"

Spoony scanned the surrounding area. "Maybe in there?" He pointed over her shoulder. MarzGurl turned, groaning as she realized where the swing music was coming from. A soda shop across the street was blasting it, with several teens whirling happily around booths. The sign above the door read: _Marv's Malt Shop._

Spoony, meanwhile, was patting down his jeans pockets, emerging victoriously with a comb. "I _knew_ it. Greasers always had these," he said happily, running it through his hair and shellacking it firmly to his head. Brushing down his leather jacket, he held out an arm to his companion. "Shall we cut a rug?"

Marzgurl rolled her eyes, but rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Let's go, Fonzie." The two strolled across the street.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, just outside of the other end of town, Chick huffed a breath, trying to make herself comfortable next to her two teammates in the small backseat of the car.<p>

The ride into Pleasantville was beginning to wear on all of them— well, all of them except Chip and Missy, who sat contentedly in the front seat, occasionally making bland remarks to their passengers. Their conversation prowess was more than lacking, and Chick could now say that she knew more about the Riverside Broncos, chemistry class, and the last drive-in movie than she ever wanted to know.

The Critic and Linkara were about as hyper-focused as Wholesome #1 and Wholesome #2, but on a much more irritating subject: the amount of space each had.

"Move," Critic said for the tenth time, shoving against Linkara's side. The comic geek scowled at him, shoving back.

"_You_ move."

"I'm riding the hump," Critic whined. "I already have no space. You've got a fudging _bachelor pad_ over there!" The laugh track chortled, causing Chick to cringe, as Critic scooted as hard as he could over towards Linkara, who gave a grunt of annoyance.

"Stop butting my butt!"

"Stop butting _my_ butt!"

Chick rounded on both, fuming. "I will _butt_ both your _butts_ into _oblivion_ if you don't _shut up_." She wasn't entirely sure how the two in the front seat didn't overhear them, but she figured it followed Sitcom Law. If you weren't talking to someone, they didn't hear you. Simple.

"So," Chip spoke up, taking his eyes off the road and turning all the way around in his seat. He had done this almost once a minute during the entire ride, and they had yet to be T-boned by a semi-truck. "What were the three of you doing out on the highway? Pretty sure there are better places to picnic."

The laugh track howled.

"Out for a walk," Critic said quickly. All four of them gave him an odd look, and he hurriedly added, "We got lost…?"

"Walking from where?" Missy asked. "Pleasantville is a long way away… and anyways, I haven't seen you three around school. Where did you three say you were from?"

"Not Riverside, right?" Chip joked, "I might have to kick you Broncos out on the curb!" Missy gave her boyfriend's shoulder a light slap, as the reviewers shook their heads and the laugh track went off. Chip shrugged, eyes beginning to look just a little less swell. "But… if you're not from Pleasantville… and you're not from Riverside… where else could you be from?"

Chick swore inwardly. "We're from… the town next to Riverside."

Missy and Chip looked interested, and a little wary. "There's another town besides Riverside?" Missy asked eagerly.

"Oh, sure," Linkara piped up. "We're from… uh…" He looked desperately at the other two, but both had nothing. "Uh… Pallet Town?"

Critic and Chick could have slapped him, but Missy and Chip nodded dumbly.

"Pallet Town?" Missy gushed. "Sounds exotic!"

Linkara rolled his eyes, sliding down in his seat. "Oh, it's exotic alright."

Chick was desperate to change the subject. "So, what brings you two all the way out here?" she asked, doing her damndest to sound interested. The teens blushed.

"We were… um… out at Lookout Point." Chip ducked his head, and Missy giggled and blushed. The laugh track _"Ooooooh"-_ed.

"Did she hand-hold your brains out?" Critic asked dryly, and Chick couldn't help but let out a snort.

Chip and Missy seemed eager to change the subject, as Chip cleared his throat and a dark gray blush painted Missy's cheeks.

"So, are you on the football team at your school?" Chip asked. Critic and Linkara shook their heads, and Chip chuckled, "Good. I'd hate to have to embarrass you out on the field." Cue the laugh track.

"I don't know, Chip," Missy said thoughtfully, "That new boy on Riverside's team might give you a run for your money. I hear he's a real animal."

"That one in the black jacket?" Chip scoffed, "Don't tell me you've lost faith in me, Missy."

Critic sat upright like he'd been shocked. Likewise, both Chick and Linkara seemed to pull themselves away from counting the number of passing trees on the side of the road, and were now listening with interest.

"Black jacket?" Critic asked, "He happen to look like a really ticked off Harry Dresden cosplayer?"

At this, Chip and Missy naturally gave confused looks. Of course, he thought, he might as well be speaking French to them right now.

"What does he _look_ like?" Critic rolled his eyes, ignoring their confusion.

Chip shrugged. "Dunno. All I hear is that he's big. And mean." He beamed, white smile almost blinding them, "But if he's like the rest of Riverside, he won't cause us much trouble."

As Chip finally began to focus on the road, the reviewers turned to each other, Critic looking tense.

"You don't think…" Critic asked in a low voice, despite the fact that he knew neither person in the front seats could hear them, "You don't think it's _him_, do you?"

"Malachite?" Chick scoffed at him, "Critic, come ON. Why would he be posing as a football player in a fifties sitcom? Don't you think he's got better things to do?"

"Maybe not," Critic answered, irritated, "We all know that Tegon and Devafen aren't the brightest bulbs on the Hanukkah bush. What if he didn't want us to keep one-upping them, and decided to come handle us himself?"

"Choke the weed before it grows," Linkara agreed.

"Oh, get over it," Chick crossed her arms and turned towards the window. It was sitcom conversation- all filler, nothing important. It could be anyone. Leave it alone. I liked it better when you two were arguing."

She looked away before the other two could see the look on her face. It wasn't an optimistic one.

* * *

><p>Back on the other end of town, Spoony and Marzgurl pushed open the doors of the malt shop, and almost immediately had to dodge a paper-hatted waiter rushing by them. Marv's was in full swing, pun entirely intended, as teens hung over every booth and talking over each other. Elvis Presley songs blared over the jukebox, and milkshakes and burgers littered every surface.<p>

"Alright," Marzgurl said to Spoony over the loud music. "You see any of the others?"

"What?" he shouted back.

"_Do you see any of the others?!"_

"_What_ about my mother?"

"DO YOU SEE-"

Spoony held up his hands, silencing her. He took a few steps over to the jukebox, leaning against it and pounding his fist into the side. Immediately, the song jumped to a soft slow number. Teens around the shop paired up and started to sway, not even the least perturbed by the fact sudden song change.

Spoony grabbed Marzgurl and the two took a few awkward dance steps.

"What was that?" she laughed.

"Couldn't hear you," he replied casually. "Plus, I've always wanted to try that."

"Don't you think you're enjoying this a little too much?" she asked, trying to keep a serious face as he spun her.

"Hey, we're inter-dimensional travelers," Spoony said, spinning her again, and dipping her suddenly, "Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who appreciates how cool that is. It's always _exploding galaxy_ this and _lives in jeopardy_ that." He set her back upright, leading her in a few more steps. "I miss when things were just… I don't know."

"What?" Marzgurl asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I don't know… fun? I mean, sure Kickassia resulted in me suddenly sprouting another personality and our quest for the gauntlet _killed_ Ma-Ti. But otherwise? It was kind of nice to just hang out with everyone. I miss that."

Marzgurl gave him a small smile. "I see your point."

Spoony was quiet for a minute. His steps slowed to the point that he was now no longer even pretending to dance, instead just sort of awkwardly standing there, his expression vaguely wistful and contemplative.

"Marz… you ever wish we were still back there?"

"Where?"

"Home. Reviewing bad movies, comics, and video games."

"That wasn't home," she reminded him. "That was Malachite getting all screwy with our heads. And don't you think it's better to know what's going on, rather than live in ignorance?"

"Maybe not," Spoony shrugged casually, but his eyes looked far away, "but, you know what they say: Ignorance is bliss."

Before Marzgurl could ask what he meant, the loud noise of glass breaking shattered the mood. All eyes turned to the counter, as a pudgy waiter hurried to clean up his dropped tray. Nearby, a group of boys in leather jackets hooted and howled.

"Nice one, butterball!" one of them yelled at the waiter from across the room.

"Come on, guys," the waiter whined, in a weak voice. "Stop it. Please?"

The greasers laughed again, one grabbing his milkshake and dumping it on the man's curly brown hair. The rest almost fell off their chairs, and the waiter simply wiped his face dejectedly. He stood up, and as the reviewers caught a glimpse of his face they stopped mid-spin.

"_Sage?"_

And sure enough, there he was, working the counter and trying to ignore the greasers as they flicked French fries at the back of his head. For a moment, the reviewers simply stared at him, surprised they had found him so easily.

"So," Spoony cleared his throat, "What do we do?"

"What do you mean, what do we do?" Marzgurl gave him an incredulous look, "We go over there and get him!"

. "Don't look at me," the gamer shrugged, "Critic got Snob, and Chick got Welshy. What the heck are we supposed to say to him?"

Marzgurl rolled her eyes. "Simple. We just say… um…" She hesitated. "We tell him that… that we… no, that he…"

"That he's really a freaky anime and fanfic reviewer with a talent for torture? That he got mind-wiped, dumped in a parallel universe and made to believe he spends his days working at a malt shop? That we're a pan-dimensional force for good, here to rescue him from evil animal people and an ancient, demonic sorcerer?" Spoony snorted. "Sure. They'd be fitting us for our straightjackets in minutes."

"Fine. Then…" Marzgurl blushed, "I don't know. We'll figure out a plan."

Spoony chuckled humorlessly as his counterpart hurried over to the counter.

"Since when," he snarked, "have we had a _plan_?"

* * *

><p>The high school immediately made the three reviewers uncomfortable, much the same way a kindergarten classroom does. Everything was far too… <em>perfect<em> for them. From the perfectly groomed flowerbeds out front to the perfect American flag, perfectly waving in the perfect breeze. Perfect teenagers in perfect sweaters waved at each other as they pulled into the parking lot, smiling with perfect white teeth.

The Nostalgia Chick shuddered. "I think my blood sugar just spiked."

Critic rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. "Let's just find Sage and get out of here. This place is a little too _swell_ for me. I'm starting to feel like I'm about to end up that _Reefer Madness_ PSA. And, all things considered, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea right about now."

They filed towards the school, pushed along by the crowd of excited teenagers eager to get to the football field. Chip and Missy disappeared into the crowd, presumably to tell their friends all about "Pallet Town." Linkara was so busy trying to ignore the mindless crowds that he almost didn't see a few of the teens sneaking off.

He nudged the Critic. "Dude. Look at those cheerleaders."

Critic wrinkled his nose. "Oh, come on. Pull yourself together."

Linkara smacked the Critic's arm. "I mean, really _look_ at them."

The two men squinted, trying to get a good look at the girls. There were around ten of them, standing just a little too straight to be normal. Perfect cheerleaders at first glance, there was simply something… _off_ about them. It could have been the strange way they all moved at once, or maybe the blank, disinterested looks on their faces.

A blonde girl with a dangerous scowl was leading them, and they marched up the stairs. As they hit the door the leader turned, and they caught a glimpse of oddly yellow eyes as the girls disappeared inside.

"Devafen," Linkara muttered. "It has to be. That, or Tegon really wants to feel pretty today."

"So the cheerleaders are…?"

"Synthspectors."

"What are you guys doing?" Chick hissed at them, and Critic grabbed her arm as they set off towards the door.

"Come on," he told her. "We're skipping the game."

* * *

><p>Back at the malt shop, Marzgurl and Spoony rushed over to the counter, pulling up stools. Sage gave them a nervous grin, strawberry milkshake still dripping off his hair.<p>

"Can I help you?" He asked, giving a wary once-over to Spoony's leather jacket.

"You don't remember us," Marzgurl asked, "do you?"

Sage shrugged. "Have you ever thrown me into a dumpster?"

"Man, you shouldn't be taking this," Spoony chuckled, "You're _Bennett the Sage_. Don't you want to… you know…"

Sage raised an eyebrow. "Know what?"

Spoony sat back, contemplative. "Well… put some glass in their burgers? Poison their milkshakes? Shove splinters into their urethras?"

Sage turned positively green. The two reviewers were almost convinced that he was about to throw up all over them at any moment. Of course, they reminded themselves, they were in a fifties' sitcom universe; it probably wasn't likely that anyone here was actually were capable of puking.

"_What?" _Sage gasped, "Gosh, that's… that's really disgusting!"

"This isn't you, Sage," Marzgurl said calmly, "Sad as it is to say, you're one of the most awful people I know, and I miss that. Doesn't all of this feel wrong to you?"

Sage looked shifty. "All of what?"

"You know what." She said, "Working in this dumb soda shop. Taking every bit of abuse these jarheads throw at you without throwing any back."

Sage rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, and Marzgurl pressed on. "Sage, this is going to be hard for you to believe-"

"Hey, man," a smarmy voice said, and the greasers settled into stools around the two of them. One of them smiled at Spoony, "Haven't seen you two around before. You in town for the game?"

The lead greaser snapped a finger at Sage, scowling. "What are you looking at, blimp boy?" he demanded, "I need another shake."

Sage flinched, hurrying away. Spoony bit back a curse, trying to get back in character. "I go where I want," he said casually, pulling out his comb again. "Name's Spoony. This is Marz."

MarzGurl rolled her eyes as she discreetly elbowed Spoony in the gut, glaring at her dark-haired companion.

"Hey!" Spoony hissed under his breath, "What was that for?"

"Idiot," MarzGurl also hissed, "You want to blow our cover?! You could have at least made up a different name."

"This guy doesn't even know who we are," Spoony replied, "Relax. I've got this."

"Weird names," the greaser commented, seemingly oblivious to the other two's whispered conversation. Spoony grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, not looking at his captive as he fixed his hair.

"You got a problem with my name, bozo?" Spoony demanded.

The greaser shrugged him off. Sage returned with the milkshake, but no one spared him a glance.

"Maybe I do," the greaser said slowly, standing up. "What were you doing talking to that tub of lard, anyway? Guy's a total dweeb."

"He's my friend," Spoony replied defensively, "you cotton-headed ninnymuggins."

Both Spoony, MarzGurl and the greaser blinked.

"What the _heck _did I just say?" Spoony asked under his breath to the Blue Ranger.

Marzgurl shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"This chair crusher is your friend?" The greaser laughed, as though he hadn't heard the last exchange at all. "His only friend is a box of donuts. Isn't that right, slim?"

The greaser turned to Sage, who was looking down at the counter, still holding the milkshake.

"You're just a lonely, little nerd." The greaser said menacingly.

Sage slammed his hand down on the counter, making them all jump as the milkshake glass shattered into a thousand pieces. The soda shop went silent once again. Sage didn't look up, but he addressed the greaser quietly.

"Don't call me that."

The greaser swallowed, still trying to look cool. "Or what?"

Sage's fist shot out, grabbing the greaser by the front of his shirt and pulling him close. He looked ready to kill.

"Or I'll pull out your esophagus and feed it to you." He growled in a low, terrifying voice that none of the patrons in the shop had ever heard him use, "Or maybe tie you to a table saw and play in your blood. Attach a cage of rats to your stomach and force them to eat through your body to escape. Or- and this is my personal favorite- pull out every single one of your fingernails, one by one. Slowly. And sure, you'd pass out. But I'd wait for you to wake up before I moved on to your toes."

Sage gave the greaser a terrifying grin as the leather-jacket clad man began to sweat, staring at the nerd with wide, surprised eyes.

"Take your pick." Sage laughed, "Because either way, you're going home in a large number of small boxes."

The shop was silent. The greaser was pale, shaking in his boots. Sage dropped him, and he sprinted out the door. Spoony let out a low whistle. "Not bad, man."

Sage pulled off his paper hat. He gave the two of them a hesitant smile. "That… that felt good."

Marzgurl grabbed him by the arm and pulled him after her. "Come on. Let's talk outside."

Even as they rounded out behind the back of the malt-shop (Which, they noted, was also surprisingly clean and neat, even for a place that was _supposed _to look at least half-way grimy), Sage was staring off into space.

"Wow," he breathed, "I mean… wow."

Spoony nodded, leaning against the wall of the alley, "A bit much to take in all at once, huh?"

Sage nodded quietly, rubbing the back of his head, as if slightly embarrassed by his sudden outburst. Marzgurl offered him a sympathetic smile.

"If it makes you feel better, you're taking it pretty well." She said, patting him on the shoulder, "Better than I thought you would, anyways."

Sage gave her a sideways look.

"Thanks," he replied, "I've just had this weird feeling for a while now… like I didn't belong here. And I've been having these dreams…"

"Screaming? Red rain? Fog? Feeling like the whole world is crashing around you?" Spoony said casually, but Marzgurl could see his shoulders tense up, "Been there, done that, got the T-shirt."

Sage shuddered. "I can't believe… all of those people, just taken like that." He gave the two of them a look. "Where are they?"

Spoony and Marzgurl exchanged a look. "We don't know," she said. "We only just found you. They could be anywhere, in any universe. We have people tracking them down, but… it's slow-going."

"How many are missing?" Sage asked.

"Over a dozen," Spoony replied, sighing.

"How many do you have?" Sage asked hopefully.

The two reviewer-rangers exchanged another look with one another, not sure exactly the best way to break the news to him.

"Including you," MarzGurl said, "three."

Sage's face fell. "That's it?"

"Hey, you try finding one person in an infinite number of universes!" Spoony snapped, "It's not '_Where's Waldo'_!"

"Hey, dweeb!" A gratingly familiar voice called behind them, and all three turned.

The greaser was back, and he'd brought friends this time around. The five of them flanked their leader, stalking towards the three with purpose. The reviewers turned, only to be met by the brick wall of the alleyway. No way out.

"I wanted to come talk to you," the greaser said to Sage, his fists clenched. "We have unfinished business."

Sage cocked his head and smiled. "We do? I thought I had made my point pretty clear," Sage replied with a bizarrely calm confidence, "You leave me alone, or I do unspeakable things that send you to years of therapy."

The other two grinned. Bennett the Sage was back.

The greaser, for some reason, smiled. Two of his lackeys reached out and grabbed Sage by the arms.

"Why don't we go have a talk? I was just going to meet a friend of mine," their leader said casually, but his tone implied that it wasn't a request.

Spoony rolled his eyes. "Why don't you sit on it?" He interrupted, "We were having a conversation with him, pal."

"I insist," the greaser said, and Marzgurl noticed for the first time how shark-like his smile was.

"So do I," Spoony smirked, and threw a punch. It never landed. The greaser caught it in his fist, eyes darkening as his body began to grotesquely shift and stretch. Spoony's smirk had barely vanished before the greaser raised his other hand and made a sign in the air.

Immediately, a wall of invisible force knocked the two reviewers off their feet, sending them- and, in the process, half of the malt shop- flying backwards. Rubble and cement shattered, and teenagers screamed. Spoony slammed into a standing wall, dropping to the ground with a painful thud. Marzgurl wasn't far behind, and she felt something crash into the back of her head as she fell to the ground.

The last thing she saw before her vision winked to black was Sage, surrounded by blank-faced greasers, staring in surprise and horror at the dragon-man in front of him.

_Tegon._

* * *

><p>The black and white hallways of the school were completely silent, and the reviewers tried to make no noise as they hurried through them. The only noises were the faint sounds of the cheerleaders up ahead.<p>

"I don't know where they are," the head cheerleader was saying. "But we're going to find them. Tegon said he picked up at least two of them on his sensor, so the other three have to be nearby."

Linkara shot them a meaningful look of _I told you so_.

"What of the anomaly?" One of the other cheerleaders asked in a dull, calculated voice. The reviewers jumped slightly; it was the first time they had heard a Synthspector's voice. It sounded like what a statue would sound like if it could talk; metallic and disquieting.

"Not a concern." Devafen sounded anxious.

"Tegon does not believe so," another Synthspector said in a similar voice. "Tegon wishes to speak with you about it."

The sound of footsteps up ahead stopped abruptly, and the reviewers stopped as well, hugging the wall of lockers in order to stay hidden.

"Well," Devafen hissed, voice full of acid. "If the almighty _Tegon_ wishes to speak with me about it, he can bring his scaly self down here! I am not his _pet_."

"Careful." A new voice echoed down the hallway. "The almighty Tegon may take offence."

The reviewer's eyes widened. Linkara, ignoring the Critic's fervent gestures for him to stay back, dared to peek his head around the corner to get a look.

The Synthspectors had stopped in perfect formation, ten similar-yet-different cheerleaders staring blankly into space. Devafen, still in the guise of a blond teenager, was staring daggers at the new visitor- Tegon himself. The dragon-man looked the same as ever; which is to say, he was in full color. After hours of monochromatic boredom, it almost hurt Linkara's eyes.

The sight was bizarre- a black-and-white preppy cheerleader and a full-color dragon-man, glaring at each other in the middle of a high school hallway. Eventually, Devafen smirked. "Nice of you to join us. We were just talking about you."

Tegon's eyes narrowed.

"Don't push me, Devafen." He said, "And do not presume to act as though I'm the one who has been ignoring their duties. Where have you been?"

Devafen examined her nails, demeanor as languid as a cat lounging in the sun.

"Where I was supposed to be;" she replied, "here, with the girls, keeping an eye on the place. Or did you forget who we were looking for?"

"I did not," Tegon growled. "And they're not here."

"What?" the cat woman replied, her eyes widening.

"They're in the town. At least, two of them are. I found them near that _ridiculous_ soda shop."

Linkara felt Chick's nails dig into his arm, pulling him back around the corner. "Two of them. Spoony and Marz. They're back in town. _We went the wrong way."_ She let him go, scowling at the Critic, "Well done, oh fearless leader."

Critic pushed her slightly. "Wha- coming here was _your_ idea!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"_Was not!"_

"Shhh!" Linkara hushed them, as Devafen and Tegon had begun to speak again.

"…about that little… _blip_ on our radar," Devafen was saying, "The one we couldn't identify…."

Tegon hesitated then said, "Lord Malachite did not inform me of any new allies of Insano's team."

"And in any case," he added loftily. "It doesn't matter. We have what they came for."

Tegon snapped his fingers. The sound of marching feet was heard, and muffled shouts. Linkara poked his head around the corner again, and his eyes widened.

There, in the center of a group of dead-eyed greasers, was Sage. His hands were tied behind his back, his mouth was covered in tape, and his eyes were glued to Tegon in absolute disbelief.

Devafen smiled devilishly, body stretching and morphing until she was once again her original feline form- color and all. She rested a single sharp claw between Sage's eyes, tilting her head.

"Nice to see you again, Bennett. You always were such a fun little captive," the catwoman all but purred, "So amusing to see how quickly your clever little threats melt away when you meet someone who can actually _carry them out_."

Tegon seemed bored. "Devafen, leave him alone."

The cat woman purred again, eyes dark. "Why? You know I like to play with my food before I eat it." Sage's knees buckled, and the Synthspectors' grip on him tightened.

"I took him from the critics, you fool," Tegon snapped at her. "They're bound to come after him, and in any case, the veil over his eyes has dropped. If he does not remember, he will soon. We must consult with Lord Malachite on how to proceed."

Devafen hissed at him, hackles rising. "Oh, you're no fun at all. Fine. Run back to Malachite with your tail between your legs. I'll watch the Sage. Maybe we can play a game." She grinned at Sage, baring sharp teeth. "Cat and mouse, perhaps?"

"Don't touch him, until I return." Tegon glared at her, and the greasers shoved Sage away, leaving no time for him to escape before the cheerleaders' hands tightened around his arms. With that, Tegon and his Synthspectors blinked out of existence, as though the air had folded around them.

Linkara sunk back behind the corner, stomach sinking as he considered the facts.

Sage was captured, and they only had mere minutes before he was warped back to Malachite, provided they didn't decide to kill him there.

They couldn't take on Devafen and her army of cheerleaders without Spoony and Marzgurl.

Spoony and Marzgurl were nowhere to be found.

As he met his friends' eyes, the comic book reviewer came to one logical conclusion.

_We are so, totally screwed._

* * *

><p>Back out in the alleyway, Spoony wasn't taking the situation much better than Linkara, or anyone else was.<p>

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." MarzGurl heard him groan through a pain-addled fog.

Marzgurl's eyes blinked open, squinting hard. Everything seemed too bright and too sharp. The sirens didn't help.

Sirens?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Spoony's face came into view. He looked furious. "God, I'm so fudging _stupid_. Tegon! Right under our noses! And I let him get away! How could I have been so fudging stupid?! It was so obvious!"

Marzgurl blinked again. She realized she was lying in a pile of rubble, which Spoony was digging her out of.

"Shut up," she managed to croak out. "Help me up."

His eyes brightened at the sound of her voice, pulling her out of the rubble. "You okay?"

She nodded, then stopped as the movement made her dizzy. "Yes. No. You?"

Spoony was covered in dust, and had his hands pressed tightly to his ribcage. "Yes and no, too."

Marzgurl gave a dazed glance to the malt shop- or, the remains of it, more accurately. Police cars were parked nearby. Screams still cropped up here and there. Vaguely, in the back of her aching mind, she was surprised by the appearance of police officers. They didn't seem like a necessity in a place as stereotypically serene and peaceful as this. But, then again, she thought, police officer characters did occasionally make appearances, so it wasn't like they_ didn't_ exist.

"I think…" she said, grogglily, "we should morph."

Spoony's eyebrows shot up, and she shrugged.

"Everything hurts less in the suits." She explained.

He nodded, and the two typed in the codes to their morphers. Within seconds, the Blue and Yellow Nexus Rangers were standing, full color, in the middle of Pleasantville. A few nearby teenagers saw them and screamed, but they were past caring.

Marzgurl tilted her neck, carefully, from side to side. The pain in her head had lessened to a dull ache, and she was able to ignore it. That being said, though, she tried to make a mental note to immediately get to the infirmary after getting back to base.

Spoony stretched, taking a deep breath.

"Alright. Better. Now, we better call Insano." Spoony said as MarzGurl nodded, and he tapped a few buttons on his morpher. "Insano? Come in. We just got the shit kicked out of us. Sage is gone. Tegon took him."

Nothing. Spoony tried again.

"Come in, Insano," he repeated, "We're alone here. The Chick has flown the coop, and she took the guys with her."

There was absolute silence from the morpher, and Spoony frowned.

"Insano," he said, the note of panic and frustration in his voice becoming clearer, "that's not funny. Talk to me."

An electric pop, a low buzz, and the speaker died completely.

Marzgurl felt a small coal of panic begin to burn the bottom of her stomach.

"Why can't we contact them?" she wondered aloud to herself.

Spoony was silent. He kept fiddling with his morpher, cheeks beginning to darken with frustration under his helmet.

"Spoony," Marzgurl said slowly, trying to keep herself calm. "What's going-"

"I don't know!" Spoony exploded, "Tegon just showed up and body-checked us into a wall, we lost Sage, the other three are nowhere to be found, and Insano's gone! We're all alone, and we failed! _That's_ what's going on!"

And with that, he shot out a foot and kicked a nearby wall hard enough to loosen a brick and send it crashing to the ground, cursing under his breath.

"Hey. We can swear again. It must be the suits," Marzgurl realized aloud.

In the back of her mind she realized she was probably supposed to be more upset. Whether that was shock, or simply her realization that she would have to be the sane one in the situation, she didn't know.

"It must be the…" Spoony trailed off, seething. _"WHO THE FUCK CARES? Sage just got taken from right under our noses!"_

"Exactly," Marzgurl said calmly, "He was taken. So _where_ was he taken? Tegon said something about meeting his friend… it must be Devafen. So where would they meet?"

"Dunno," Spoony shrugged, still angry, "Somewhere with a lot of people. Somewhere they wouldn't stand out."

At that moment, a burning banner floated to the ground. **"PLEASANTVILLE VS. RIVERSIDE."**

They looked at each other. Spoony couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"That's convenient."

* * *

><p>"Fudge, fudge, fudge." The Nostalgia Critic didn't do very well under pressure, and at this point it was a wonder he wasn't beating something to death with his bare hands. The Red Ranger was in the beginnings of a full-fledged panic attack. "Fudge, fudge, FUDGE."<p>

Chick slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his repeated censored-swearing.

"Oh, stop being such a girl," she hissed. "And keep your voice down. Cheetara and her perky minions aren't that far away."

"What are we going to do?" Linkara asked the two of them. "Critic, you're our 'leader.' Any bright ideas?"

"Sorry," Critic muttered, pulling away from Chick's hand. "I'm terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought."

"Stop quoting _Ghostbusters _and think!" Chick snapped. "What do we do?"

Before anyone could respond, Linkara held up a hand for silence. A faint sound echoed down the hallway, coming from behind them.

Footsteps.

The three of them reacted as one, throwing open a nearby door and ducking inside what turned out to be a broom closet. Squished together unpleasantly, they held their breath. From outside came the sound of marching feet.

"Stop where you are," a Synthspector said. There was a short silence, and then softer steps were heard.

"Who the devil are you?" Devafen snapped, and they could hear the snarl in her voice.

A noise was heard- an odd, crackly sound that brought to mind radio static. A chuckle. "Not the devil. Only a close friend of his. A pleasure to finally meet you, Devafen."

The reviewers felt an involuntary shudder in the pits of their stomachs. The new voice was unlike anything they had heard- deep and mechanical, with an underlying screech. Like someone dragging a metal nail across a chalkboard.

Devafen's voice was unsure. "How do you know my name? Who are you?"

"I was sent to collect the prisoner," the voice said. "Hand him over."

Devafen laughed. "Do you think I'm an imbecile?"

The voice chuckled again. "You don't trust me?"

"Not an inch."

"What if I told you we had a common goal?" the voice said. "That we work for the same man?"

"I'd call you a liar."

"But it's true. Lord Malachite recruited me, as he did you."

Devafen hissed. "If you believe I'm about to hand him over to a-"

"How is your son, by the way?"

There was a long pause. Chick mouthed, 'Son?' to her co-workers, who shrugged as best as they could in the cramped space. Devafen didn't seem the motherly type.

"What are you implying." The way Devafen asked it, it wasn't a question.

"I'm only making conversation," the voice said craftily. "Catayan, isn't it? Very young. Malachite seems to like the boy; he keeps him around, anyway. It would be quite a shame if his favor changed due to some careless action on _someone's _part."

A low growl was heard. "How _dare_ you-"

"A careless action such as… oh, I don't know. Refusing direct orders from your master's new General?" The voice paused, rubbing it in. "But that would certainly be foolish."

The growl died away. There was a shuffling sound, and another muffled shout from Sage. "Take him. And leave my son alone."

"Go back to your master. He'll be wondering where you are. For your son's sake, be quick."

There was an odd _worp_ noise, and then silence.

"What now?" Linkara mouthed. Critic squirmed his hand up to face level, and pointed to his morpher.

"I think only Darth Vader is left out there," he breathed. "Let's curb-stomp him, grab Sage, and go find Spoony and Marz." The other two shared a look, then nodded. Together, they dialed in the code and the Nexus Rangers took shape.

Unfortunately, they transformed in an extremely crowded broom closet, and almost immediately tumbled out in a multicolored heap that would have reminded one of skittles falling out of a bag. While it wasn't exactly the entrance they were hoping for, they straightened up as quickly as they could.

Critic threw up his arm and pointed at the new foe. "Alright. Hand over the nerd and no one…" Critic's arm dropped to his side. "Holy shit."

The General was a monster. Every inch of him was covered in shiny black armor, interlocking panels that vaguely reminded them of scales. His entire head was encased in a helmet, shielding his face from view. The design was oddly reminiscent of a shark; sleek, sharp, and unfeeling. As they watched he tilted his head to the side slightly, as though considering the best way to kill them.

The Critic sucked in his gut, clenching his fists, trying to regain a fraction of the composure he'd lost in the General's presence.

"You heard me," he repeated, "Hand him over."

The General extended his hand, and from the center of his palm sprang a long, metal bo staff. He swung it in front of him, twirling it between his fingers idly

"Nice try," Critic smirked beneath his mask, "but Malachite already pulled that card."

_Ker-shunk._

Three sharp blades sprouted from the sides of the staff, turning it into a deadly-looking pitchfork. The staff, oddly enough, began to hum.

The Critic gulped. "That's new."

The General's glove tightened around the spear. "I'll give you three seconds. Three."

"Critic," Chick warned, but the Red Ranger laughed.

"Nice try. Count again, genius. It's three to one."

"Two."

"Critic," Chick echoed, more urgently.

"One."

Before anyone else could speak, the blades shot off of the staff, slicing into the Rangers' suits. The cuts weren't deep, but as the blades touched the suits the reviewers fell to the ground. Pain arced through their bodies, and they began to slip into unconsciousness.

_Electric,_ Critic thought numbly. _The damn spear is electric._

And, ironically, the same thought that had run through Linkara's head less than ten minutes ago flashed through the Critic's.

_We are so, totally screwed._

* * *

><p>It must have been only minutes later, but if anyone were to ask him, Critic would have told them it felt more like hours. He woke up to someone kicking his head. He snapped his neck up, eyes blearily focusing on the first thing he could see.<p>

The Pink Ranger was lying on the ground in front of him, and though he couldn't see her face he could only imagine the glare she was aiming at him.

"Wake up, moron," she hissed under her breath.

The Critic blinked slowly; his brain seemed to be a few steps behind. As he focused, he realized that his shoulders were hurting. As well as every inch of his body. He tried to push himself off the ground, but couldn't move. Why were his hands tied? He wondered, as he felt something tug against this wrists.

A sudden force pressed into his back, and he craned his head around to find the end of the bo staff resting just below his neck.

"Don't move," the General rasped through his mask. Critic nodded slightly, and the General stepped away, turning his back to the Rangers and consulting a screen on his wrist.

Critic looked back to his friends; they had been dropped, unconscious, to the floor next to Sage, who was simply staring at them in disbelief.

Admittedly, Critic was just a little surprised that Sage hadn't passed out from shock yet. He knew that if he were in his shoes at the moment, he would have fainted from having so many weird things happen in the span of under an hour. Of course, afterward, he'd claim he was just playing dead to protect himself.

Although Critic couldn't get a good look at the device, he could tell that it appeared far too technologically advanced for something that any of Malachite's forces would use.

Then again, Malachite was a hypocrite when it came to technology, so it stood to reason that his minions were in the same mental boat.

The Red Ranger strained his ears to hear as The General began to speak into the device. Unfortunately, this seemed to be difficult, as that The General's mask seemed to now be muffling the creature's voice.

Why wasn't this man killing them, yet? Critic wondered, as a vague note of panic sang through his nerves. All it would take was for the General to take a swift jab through the Rangers chests with his electric trident-spear.

Calmly, the General knelt beside Sage and rested a hand on the terrified reviewer's shoulder as he whispered something in his ear. Again, a wave of panic stricken adrenaline shot through the Red Ranger's veins as he struggled harder against bonds that refused to yield.

"Don't…" He could hear Chick shout to the General in a hoarse whisper, "Don't touch him, you ugly son of a bitch!"

The helmeted General only made a motion that that one could assume was similar to annoyed eye-roll, before turning his attention back to the terrified anime reviewer.

Damn it, Critic swore to himself, his muscles now burning and aching as they rebelled against his efforts to break free. Perhaps, much like with Tegon's spell, he'd see Sage engulfed in a cocoon of light, only to emerge as some twisted feral creature. Or maybe this man was more of a subtle spellcaster than his lizard-like comrade; and was doing something that, while not altering Sage's physical appearance, but would change his mind—either turning him against them, or making it even harder for them to restore his memories, should they even manage to rescue him.

Although sweat beaded on Sage's forehead, and his chest heaved in short but deep breaths like one trying his hardest to keep calm, he only nodded in response to the words that only him and the General could heard. Almost immediately, his breathing calmed,

The shark-masked man stood again, now strolling over to Critic with the gliding steps of a predator. The Red Ranger's heart beat began to beat so rapidly that he was afraid that it was going to fly out of his chest as the man loomed over him, glaring down at him through the onyx visor of his helmet.

The General gripped the Red Ranger by the back of his helmet, slowly but painfully lifting him up until his masked face was just inches away from Critic's own. Staring into the blackened eye of this creature's helmet was like staring into the depths of the abyss itself. He could just barely see himself reflected back—a blur of dull red amongst a sea of emptiness.

"So," The General's metallic voice hissed, "Anything you'd like to ask me?"

"Yeah," Critic snarked as his voice returned to him, "I got one question for you: Does Darth Vader know you're stealing his gimmick?"

The General laughed, his voice cold and rough through the static, like shards of glacial rock against ones' skin. Yet, underneath the static's gravelly distortions, there rang a faint flicker of a warm fire of familiarity, like a laugh of a close friend or family member.

Involuntarily, a cold shiver ran down the Red Ranger's spine like an icy waterfall.

"Maybe," The General laughed, "George Lucas should use me as a stand in for the _Super_ _Hyper Turbo Deluxe Extended Directors' HD Edition _re-release."

Again, The Red Ranger and his two teammates blinked, Linkara and Chick managing to exchange puzzled looks. None of them were sure that they could accurately come up with words to describe this man that held them captive. Then again, what could one possibly say about a mage who took pot-shots at _Star Wars_ while holding a man's head as if it were a grapefruit, outside of "_he's completely psycho_?"

Critic's movements became like a frantic animal trying to escape the clutches of a predator. His legs, though numb with pain, flailed about uselessly, scrambling to kick whatever square inch of the armored man he could.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps echoing from the opposite end of the hall. Out of the corner of his eye, Critic caught a bit of blue and yellow almost like glowing neon against the dull monochrome.

The General, seemingly amused by the appearance of two new opponents, loosened his grip on Critic as his head turned toward the two newcomers, watching them as MarzGurl hacked at the ropes binding the wrists of her fellow reviewers.

A fierce roar emitted from the Red Ranger as he threw himself backwards, kicking his feet out. A startled gasped followed by a pained grunt escaped the General as Critic's foot connected with the man's black armor, as he pushed himself free. The ropes binding his wrists together creaked as they yielded to the newly refueled force of his efforts.

His hands now free, Critic hastily typed in the code to summon his weapon and joined the others. The Pink and Green Rangers, now also freed from their bonds, followed their leader, and also summoned their weapons in a flash of light, forming a protective barrier between Sage and the General.

"Where the hell were you guys?" Critic asked over his shoulder to the Yellow and Blue Rangers.

"Well excuse me," Spoony snapped, "But it's a little hard to find you guys when this place is like a billion miles wide and we've got no way of getting a lock on you because the damn communicators are busted. Oh! And, let's not forget the fact that we're busy getting our asses kicked by Tegon and a bunch of greaser punks. Next time we'll try harder, okay?"

Critic blinked as he the Yellow Ranger pointedly looked away from him. The gamer's posture seemed oddly stiff as his hands tightly gripped the battle hammer in his hands. It was like looking at a dormant volcano just on the verge of springing to life again—nobody was sure when it would reawaken and spew forth molten lava and ash, but they knew that should it happen, the results would be devastating.

"Oh, by the way," Linkara said, motioning toward the General, "Have you guys met Tall Dark and Ugly yet? If not, allow me to introduce him to you."

"Oh, believe me," MarzGurl replied, "I know him."

The pure, unbridled loathing that growled in the Blue Ranger's voice gave everyone on the battlefield pause. Not even in her most ranting of reviews, had any of them ever heard her sound this pissed at anyone ever before.

"You what?" Critic asked, "What do you mean '_you know him'_?"

"I met him back in our dimension," MarzGurl explained, gripping her hand axes tighter, "Long story short; this bastard tried to kidnap me."

"So," Chick said aloud, "That confirms it, doesn't it? This guy's definitely working for Malachite."

The General's grip on his weapon slacked, as he lowered his guard. His body was rigid; shoulders tense and his feet planted into the ground, as if he were trying to keep himself from stumbling back.

"_Marzgurl_…" The man breathed quietly, his voice barely able to be heard over the crackling static.

In response, the Blue Ranger and her teammates raised their weapons, posing in a battle formation that, while fierce, felt more than a little ridiculous to them. If this was a trick, they silently agreed, then they weren't going to allow themselves to fall for it.

"So," The onyx armored General sighed, as he picked up his trident like staff again, "I guess how that's how things are going to be between us, huh? I guess I might as well play the part, then."

With a blur of motion, a handful of Synthspectors—standing in the corners like forgotten statues—sprang to life, morphing into their usual ghostly, faceless selves as they descended upon the Rangers like a swarm of angry wasps.

"Oh yeah?" Critic challenged, readying his sword into an attack position, "Bring it on, Sith Lord."

He started to rush toward the General, but was stopped as an arm shot out in front of him, catching him lightly in the chest.

"Leave this jerk to me," MarzGurl said, resting her hand on his shoulder, "I've got a score to settle with him. You guys just keep the Synthspectors off my back, okay?"

Critic opened his mouth to protest. How was MarzGurl expecting to take on this guy alone, when he'd taken out three of them without breaking a sweat? But, just as quickly as he opened his mouth, something in his mind warned him against it.

Perhaps it was the tone of the cartoon reviewer's voice, or perhaps it was how he could almost feel her staring at him through the visor of her helmet, but something told him that this was something she felt she needed to do. Like Malachite, this General had crossed a line, and had made it personal for the Blue Ranger.

So instead; he simply nodded as MarzGurl rushed ahead of the team, the silver of her hand-axes glowing white under the gray fluorescent light of the hallway as the clashed with the blades of the General's staff-like weapon.

At the edge of the battlefield, Sage spat in disgust as he pulled the last of the tape off from over his mouth. Slowly, he tried to speak again, his lips struggling against a film of sticky tape residue.

"Wait," he tried to call, "You guys—"

But, his words were lost to the clash and bang of combat erupting all around him. It didn't matter, he shrugged, a maniac grin coming over his face as he as his fist smashed into a near-by glass case, withdrawing a heavy, round fire extinguisher and a small, red fireman's hatchet.

A Synthspector, having been tossed by the Yellow Ranger, flew across the room toward Sage. With the quickness of a tiger, the faceless monster twisted its body around, lunging at the anime reviewer.

Sage swung the hatchet, wincing just slightly as he watched the blade cleanly slice through the creature's body. He winced as the creature's split skin melted and stretched with an uncomfortably squishing sound as it reformed itself. However, despite this, the creature still was thrown backwards, landing on the ground with a very audible thud.

The manic smile on the anime reviewer's face curled into a demented Cheshire Cat grin, as watched the creature climb back onto it's feet.

Finally, he almost laughed, after spending his entire existence in this universe as the dweeb that everyone picked on, he had a chance to unlock those demented instincts that made him feel so out of place in this sugar-coated optimist's nirvana.

Again, he grinned and rushed into the fray, gleefully hacking through a group of attacking faceless humanoids like a kid who'd just been given the keys to a candy store, glad to have targets that would last a few rounds against him.

* * *

><p>Minutes passed as the battle raged, spilling out from the narrow hallways of the school building, onto the football field. In MarzGurl's mind, it hadn't seemed much like they'd moved at all, until she paused for a second as she felt a faint, warm breeze brushed against her suit, and the distant screams of innocent civilians fleeing the scene.<p>

But, she had no time to muse on this, as that a burning heat warmed her body, aching for her to take another swing at this creature who's very existence seemed to offend her to her very core.

The battle had devolved into a stand-off between them. MarzGurl's shoulders heaved in time with the rise and fall of her panting breaths as the two circled one another like a pair of wolves in a dogfight.

She studied his stance carefully, despite the ringing ache dulling her senses, searching for a momentary weakness in his stance. Something wasn't right, she thought as a spark of annoyance danced on the ends of her nerves.

His movements had seemed too restrained, dodging attacks that could have been easily parried and countered, and missing even the easiest and cheapest of shots. What was stranger was that, outside of the electrically charged blades of his spear, he seemed to be sticking primarily to physical combat over magic, more so than either of his comrades.

What was his game, she wondered, was he deliberately trying to mess with her head, or was there some other reason for him to be holding back like he was?

"Hey," MarzGurl taunted as the the burn of fatigue tingled in her lungs, "What's up, pal? Getting tired or something? I expected you to put up more of a fight."

"Funny," The General laughed, "I was expecting little less of a fight. You've gotten a hell of a lot tougher since Kickassia. Not that you weren't already tough enough back then."

MarzGurl's eyes widened as her gut felt like it'd been hit with a ton of bricks. Nervously, her gloved fingers loosened around the hilts of her twin axes, as her fingertips suddenly felt numb.

"Who," she asked, "are you?"

The General suddenly fell quiet, his arms folded across his chest, his hand stroking the chin of his shark-like helmet. He stared at the Blue Ranger with eyes, had they not been concealed by the impenetrable black visor, which may have been far away and remorseful.

But, no sooner had a static hiss escaped the General's mask, a loud, thunderous explosion rocked the ground. Thick clouds of gray smoke and debris rolled across the field, blanketing the Blue Ranger's vision in a thick haze.

As the smoke started to clear, MarzGurl had noticed two things immediately. One was that the others and Sage had regrouped nearer to her. The second, was that the armored clad General was no longer the only one on the field.

Like a ghost materializing from the ether, Tegon stepped out of the burning gray fire, his sword drawn and a familiar manic glint dancing across his masked, lizard-like face. A placid, almost unnerving, grin twisted across his lips as he made a flourishing motion with his hand.

The critics moved closer together, instinctively trying to reform the barrier around Sage, as the fallen Synthspectors twitched, shambling their way back into a standing position. Admittedly, it took most of the reviewers' strength and willpower not to wince uncomfortably as the faceless humanoids crawled, twisting and moving in ways that they were sure no human could possibly move without possibly snapping a few bones and muscles in the process.

"Honestly," Tegon sneered, "You must be gluttons for punishment. We both know exactly what'll happen if you insist on taking us on like this. Wouldn't be much less painful for all of us—especially Sage—if you just hand him over now? I'm sure that Malachite would gladly grant him a swift and painless death."

"Hey, about that," Sage replied, "Here's the thing; I don't make a very interesting dead guy. You on the other hand, being the strange lizard human hybrid that you are, would probably make an interesting autopsy. See, I'm wondering if your insides are more like a lizard's, or more like a human's, or maybe a weird hybrid of the two."

Tegon laughed as Sage charged at him, swinging the small hatchet at the dragon-like man with a fury born from months of quiet suppression boiling over like bubbling liquid on a hot stove.

Without even so much as blinking, Tegon sidestepped Sage's attack, casually deflecting his attack with a casual swipe of his sword. Again, Sage tried to counter, only to find Tegon's knee catching him swiftly in the gut, knocking the hatchet out of his hands. Before the anime reviewer could hit the ground, his assailant grabbed him roughly around his neck, pulling him just inches off the ground.

"I'm impressed," Tegon replied, "You held up better than I expected against me. Of course, you're still in over your head. Perhaps you would do better against opponents who are more your speed?"

Faster than any of them could react, Tegon began chanting, gathering together the energy of the Synthspectors into a ball of energy. Sage let out a choked gasp as the dragon-man's claw like fingers pressed against his back, feeling as cold as liquid nitrogen as they guided the shimmering, pulsating ball of concentrated evil into the depths of his core.

Like with the other transformations, a glow began to surround Sage's body. But, also like the other times this happened, this glow did nothing to shield the observers from the twisting and gruesome transformation that took place.

However by now, the critics had become somewhat accustomed to seeing these horrible, nightmarish mutations that they weren't near as shocked or disgusted by it. It was like watching a scene from a horror film that someone's watched multiple times. The actual horror and shock of the scene had long since faded, replaced only with an uncomfortable nauseous lurching of dread in their stomachs.

None of them were all that surprised when the light faded and Sage emerged as a hulking, humanoid bear-like creature.

"Huh," Spoony commented with an amused chuckle, "So Sage got turned into a geekier version of Kuma from _Tekken_. I don't think I could have seen that one coming."

"How couldn't you have?" Critic snarked, "I mean, he only transformed into the mascot for like one of the only two towns in this universe that we know of. Yeah, who could have possible _not_ seen that coming?"

"Well," Linkara said, "Considering that the last two times this has happened, we fought against humanoid sea creatures, I could see why we wouldn't expect the next transformation to be a bear."

"Hey guys," Chick said, tapping her foot impatiently, "Unless one of you wants to start quoting Christopher Walken from that god awful _Country Bears_ movie, then I suggest we get a move on. This overly-saccharine monochrome nightmare is really starting to get on my nerves."

"Hang on guys," MarzGurl said, holding up a hand, "I want to try something."

The other four exchanged dubious looks with one another as MarzGurl stepped ahead of them, her weapons lowered and her arms open and at her sides to indicate that she meant no harm.

"Sage," she said, her voice, though shaking, was gentle and measured, "Look, I know that you probably don't recognize us in these weird suits; but we're you're friends. I'm not sure if you can hear me because of the spell or not, but you've got to wake up and fight this."

For a moment, a tense silence fell over the battlefield as Sage's monster form stared through her, as if he wasn't sure whether to trust this strange woman clad entirely in blue. However this hesitation was very short lived as Sage let out a fearsome roar that shook the grounds below them and lumbered toward them, followed closely by Tegon. With a battle cry of their own, the five rushed across the field, brandishing their weapons and engaging with combat.

"Okay," MarzGurl said, "So that didn't work. Plan B—I'm going in for round two with the Dark Knight. Linkara; cover me!"

The Green Ranger nodded, firing blasts from his twin pistols as he rushed over to the Blue Ranger's side. With a startled yelp, the Blue Ranger stumbled as a stray shockwave of electricity from the General's spear hit her in the chest, forcing the comic book reviewer to practically leap the last few yards of distance between them as he scrambled to catch her.

"Marz?" He asked, helping her stand, "You okay?"

"You're not going to go all _'take comfort in my masculine arms' _like you did in Kickassia," MarzGurl asked, grinning despite the faint wooziness she felt as she stood, "are you?"

Linkara shook his head.

"Then I'm fine." She replied, dusting herself off.

But, unfortunately, this slight delay had been adequate enough time to allow the General to escape, disappearing somewhere in the ever darkening grayscale forest of pine-trees outside the field.

"Damn it," MarzGurl swore to herself as she scanned the empty skyline to no avail, "Where'd he run off to?"

"Don't worry about it," Linkara replied, resting a hand on her shoulder, "If he's anything like Tegon and Devafen, then I get a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of him in the future."

The Blue Ranger nodded as she cast one last look behind her, hoping to catch even a glimpse of the dark-armored General, before following Linkara back towards the others.

* * *

><p>Back with the others, the others were beginning to know what the phrase "<em>being thrown around like a ragdoll<em>" actually felt like.

Spoony groaned as Sage's claws tore through his suit, raking a deep trail of bleeding gashes across his mid-section, sending a fiery pain shooting through him as the claws pressed against his other injuries.

But, as soon as he stumbled back from that, he'd found himself being tossed into the path of a second attack by Tegon, who merely tossed him back to his bear-like companion. Every so often, one of the Rangers would manage to block an attack and exchange it with one of their own.

Tegon leapt into the air, forcing Chick to roll out of the way as he brought down his sword, only for Spoony to rush into the way, and block the attack with his hammer.

Unfortunately, the sudden movement did very little favors for the Yellow Ranger's injuries, forcing his stance to be slightly off as just as a sharp pain shot through his side.

Thankfully, however, Tegon was unable to take advantage of this, as just as he was landing, the Pink Ranger had managed to shoot a pink energy charged bolt from her crossbow, grazing the lizard-man's shoulder as it zipped by him like a hummingbird. Tegon grunted as he was knocked on his back.

However, just as quickly as he had fallen, he stood back up again, clutching the bleeding cut on his shoulder. But, the two paid very little attention to him as they rushed to rejoin Critic, who now accompanied by Linkara and MarzGurl, was exchanging blows with a very infuriated Sage.

"Any reason," MarzGurl mused aloud, as she countered a few swipes of Sage's claws, "Why it seems like Chick's always the one fighting Tegon? This makes like, what, four times that she's fought him now? You think that it might go deeper than just a vendetta?"

"Don't know," Chick replied, as she and Linkara fired a few more blasts, showering the field in sparks "And honestly, I don't _want _to know."

The battle continued in a few more moments, with both teams exchanging one hit for another, with no clear victor in sight. While the critics had the advantage of having greater numbers, Sage and Tegon had the advantage of delivering attacks that had greater impact—thanks in no small part to the unrestrained power of Sage's monster form.

The fact that they were fighting Tegon and Sage alone bothered Critic. Why hadn't Devafen returned with Tegon? He wondered. And, what about that General guy? Why had he suddenly fled? Surely, between the three of them and Sage, they could have wiped the floor with the Rangers. Wouldn't Malachite want to twist the odds in his favor like that?

On second thought, Critic wondered, why weren't _they_ doing what they could to twist the odds in their favor?

"Hey guys," Critic said in between countering and dodging strikes, "I just thought of something."

"Oh, good for you," Chick snarked between blasts "Did it hurt?"

"Shut up," the Red Ranger replied, "But seriously-We've got a giant robot, right? So why don't we just summon it and just flatten these guys?"

"Code of the Ranger," Linkara replied in a matter of fact tone, "'_never escalate a fight unless it's absolutely necessary_'. Besides, we're trying to save the others, not kill them."

"Well," Spoony joked between strained breaths as he clutched his ribs "That and the fact that I'm pretty sure none of us want to have to keep hosing off bits of bloody pulpy flesh and guts out from under Neutro's feet after every mission."

"Speaking of," MarzGurl said, "do you think that we've tired Sage out enough for us to be able to use the cannon and move on to the next stage of the fight?"

The others nodded in agreement as they dismissed their weapons to whatever subspace they resided in, exchanging it with the large cannon that, like most of their arsenal, was designed specifically for the purposes of removing severe magical spells with minimal damage.

As a burning, shimmering orb of energy barreled forth, burrowing into the monster-form of their fellow co-worker to battle its opposite force, the Rangers couldn't help but silently wish that this would have been the end of the battle there.

It had been easy during their first mission; the enemy hadn't had the foresight to reinforce their spells upon the reviewers with a failsafe that turned them into giant, sixty-foot tall monsters.

However, despite the fact they knew they should get used to this, they couldn't help but feel an ever-tightening knot in their stomachs as they watched Sage's body flicker like a candle between human and monster as a violent pinpoint of light glowed brightly over his heart.

Each of them hoped that unlike the last time this had happened, that perhaps it would be Sage's true form that would emerge from the silent struggle, thus negating the spell's effects and the need to have to prolong this fight. Not that they thought pilot a titanic, armored, mechanized death machine and fight giant monsters wasn't awesome—they just wished that the giant monsters that they had to fight against didn't also happen to be one of their co-workers.

Unfortunately, it seemed that, just like the previous time, Sage's body was engulfed in an ever-growing violet light. The light, already bright enough to blind, seemed even harsher and eerie as it bathed the black and white fields in ugly, nightmarish shades.

And, much like the previous time, a larger version of their transformed co-worker materialized from the rapidly fading light. Another beast-like howl roared from the bear-man's throat, sending the last of the civilians who had been too fascinated by the fight to flee, running as far away from the football field as they could, for fear of being crushed under his massive paw-like feet.

"So," Linkara said "Anyone else realize that we might not have thought this through?"

"What do you mean?" Spoony joked, "We just unleashed a freaking gigantic, rampaging grizzly bear in the middle of a place that, up until today, didn't even know that anything existed beyond their little corner of the multiverse, and are probably going to need centuries of therapy to even begin to comprehend any of this. Yeah, I'd say we thought this through perfectly."

"Okay," Linkara explained "but consider that, at some point during the energizing process, our communications with Insano and the others got somehow damaged. I'm guessing that the only reason we were able to access our suits and weapons is because their being stored in some sort of subspace in our morphers."

"Linkara," Chick interrupted, "As much as we know you love to go on long winded lectures, seeing as how super-sized Yogi Bear over there just punched through the high school, could you please get to the point?!"

"Fine," the Green Ranger huffed, "Point: There's a good chance the Neutro Megazord is a bit too large to simply conjure up like we do the weapons. We might need Insano and the others to help us summon it."

Critic opened his mouth to speak, but quickly quieted as a familiar crackling of static echoed from his morpher. Hurriedly, he brought his arm level with his shoulder and pressed a button.

"Hello?" he called, hesistantly, "Insano? Is that you?"

"_Of course it's me," _Insano's shrill voice rang, "_We were just lucky enough to get communications back online. Oh, and we picked up a massive surge of energy in your current location. I'm guessing that it's safe to say that you found Sage, isn't it?"_

"Yep," Critic sighed, "And then Tegon showed up with this armored tank of a dude calling himself The General. They fled the scene, but not before dragon-breath turned Sage into a giant grizzly bear."

"_Hehehe_," Insano laughed, "_That must be quite a sight. A giant bear rampaging through the streets of suburbia. Note to self: once this is all done with, develop a giant rampaging grizzly bear for world domination plans."_

"Save it for later," Chick shouted, practically pulling Critic's arm out of it's socket, "Again, am I the only one who seems to be noticing that SAGE IS RUNNING A FREAKING RAMPAGE AND COULD POSSIBLY KILL HUNDREDS OF INNOCENT BYSTANDERS?!"

"_Erm…right," _Insano cleared his throat_, "Anyways, the transport systems are still under repairs. If we divert power from other sources, we might be able to give the system enough of a jolt to get it running again temporarily. At least until we can get most of the systems back online."_

"So what are you waiting for?!" Critic asked, the urgency in his voice growing with each syllable spoken.

"_Hold your horses, will you?"_ the mad scientist's voice whined, "_We're working on it as we speak! It's not like flipping on a light switch, you know. These things take a little time."_

A few seconds of anxious waiting passed as faint blips and beeps echoed through the static.

"_Okay_," Insano replied, finally, "_I think it should be operational. Try now."_

The transmission ended with a feeble burst of static as the five Rangers gave a quick, tentative nod to one another as they input the command on their morphers. A deep rumbling and whirring of mechanical noise filled the air, as a flash of white light filled the air.

Slowly, Neutro—or the Neutro Megazord as they had taken to calling the upgraded form of the robot—descended from the sky, it's eyes flashing as its five pilots teleported into the cockpit, assuming control of the humanoid death machine.

Sage blinked, pausing in its aimless destruction as the robot's shadow fell upon him. The beast's eyes narrowed as they fell upon the giant blue and silver robot that circled him. Immediately, the instincts of his monster form took over, as he bared his teeth and let out a low, threatening growl.

Soon, the second half of the battle commenced as the two exchanged blows with one another. It was only a small relief, they sighed, that unlike in their fight with Welshy, Sage seemed to be favoring more physical attacks, over any special abilities.

However, as small of a comfort as it was, it was easily crushed in the face of the fact that Sage's attacks, while slower, were more powerful and brutal, as if whatever of the spell's energy could be used for special abilities had been channeled into giving him above average strength.

Sparks flew as Sage tackled Neutro, pinning the robot to the ground as he tore at it with his massive paws.

The screeching groan of bending and ripping metal filled the inside of the cockpit as puffs of smoke emitted from the sparking consoles, filling the small space with the acrid smell of brunt metal an plastic.

"Huh," Spoony mused aloud as he flipped a few switches, trying his best to normalize the network, "I never thought I'd say this; but there's almost something kind of comforting about Sage trying to rip our internal organs out with his bare hands."

"And I thought I was the one who hit my head too hard," MarzGurl commented under her breath, as she took control of one of the arms, delivering a swift hook to Sage's jaw with enough force to knock him off of them.

"I dunno," Spoony replied, "It just feels like something that normal Sage would do y'know?"

"True." Critic agreed, steadying himself as the giant robot shakily rose, its feet guided by Linkara and Chick's controls.

Again, the giant robot moved forward, clumsily grabbing Sage, wrestling with the bear-man's thrashing limbs as it struggled to break free of the hold that they had put him in. After a few moments of struggling, Sage's movements slowed, having clearly started to wear himself out from the struggle.

"Alright everyone," Critic said flipping a few switches on the control panel in front of him as they let go of Sage, tossing him into a large clearing about a hundred yards away, "It's time to wrap this up. Begin the seizure-inducing Care Bear's Stare chest-laser attack!"

"Neutro Megazord Final Attack Sequence," Linkara corrected him with an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah," Critic replied, ignoring the deathly glare that the Green Ranger was giving him beneath his helmet, "That thing. Intiate it."

A high-pitched, pneumatic hum, like the starting of some nuclear device in a science fiction film, echoed from the giant robot as its eyes flashed white.

Sage, still somewhat dazed from being thrown to the ground, stumbled forward, attempting yet another swing at his opponent. However, just as his hand extended, Neutro dodged out of the way, countering with a few swift punches and kicks from its glowing limbs, stunning the bear man.

Finally, the emblem on the robot's chest began to charge, flickering with a rainbow light that grew brighter and brighter, burning within the robot's chest until it could no longer be contained within its prison of metal and glass.

Like a rocket, the beam fired from the robot's chest, hitting the transformed reviewer square in the chest. An explosion filled the sky as the beam engulfed Sage's body, dissolving away the majority of the spell-core like salt dissolving in water.

The light shrunk and faded as Sage reverted back to his normal size and form, collapsing into an unconscious heap below Neutro's feet. Carefully, the five reviewers scooped up Sage in one of Neutro's massive hands, as they cheered, happy to have broken yet another spell.

"Insano," Critic replied, tapping into Neutro's commincations, "Sage is normal again. Prepare to beam him and us back to the lab."

"_I—"_ Insano's voice started to say, before it was drown in a worrying burst of static.

"Damn it," Critic swore, slamming his fist on the console, "Not again. Insano, what's going on?! Teleport us out of here!"

"_Ener_…._distor_…" the mad scientist's voice panicked through the crackling burst of white noise, "_Jam_…_signal_…"

The five exchanged worried looks with one another as a long burst of static feedback drown out Insano's words. Suddenly, they saw something moving just within the vicinity of the giant robot, drawing their attention to the newly re-appeared General heading toward them.

Before they could comprehend what even happened, the General leapt up, clearing the sixty foot vertical jump as if it were just a skip, landing in front of Sage, resting in the palm of Neutro's hand.

"So that was the bastard's plan," MarzGurl said, the anger dripping from her voice, as she left her console, practically flying out the exit, ignoring the pain in her head "Let Tegon distract us with Sage, so that we could weaken him down enough for him to take back."

In a matter of seconds, the Rangers had rushed outside of the robot, ignoring the fact that they were far too high up in something that probably wasn't that stable. The General looked up at them as he calmly lifted the unconscious reviewer up, one arm around his waist as he carried one of Sage's arms draped around his shoulder.

"Oh hell no," Critic said, raising his fists, "We just nearly got our asses kicked out there! There's no way that we're letting you just waltz in and make that all for nothing."

The General did not speak as he tapped the device around his wrist. Screaming, the Red Ranger rushed at the dark armored man, his fist ready to break through the man's cold, smooth helmet and punch the face beneath until there was nothing left but an oozing, bloody pulp.

A black aura surrounded the General and his captive just as Critic's fist came inches from the General's face. In a blink of an eye, the General and Sage vanished, leaving Critic to stumble, falling on his knees as his fist connected with only air.

"Damn it!" Critic swore to himself, beating his fist against the cold metal of Neutro's hand.

A heavy coldness, like winter snow, fell over the reviewers as they stared at the empty air that their fellow co-worker had stood in only moments ago.

Two thoughts echoed through their minds as they stared out into the empty space where their co-worker had been standing just moments ago. The first, was that they couldn't believe that they had failed. The second, was summed up by MarzGurl.

"That bastard is going to pay for this." She said.

* * *

><p>Later that night, the Nexus base was almost totally quiet. Faint echoes of mechanical whirs broke the silence every now and again, but not a peep was heard otherwise. The team had fallen into uneasy sleep, bundled up underneath mountains of blankets each.<p>

Linkara watched his breath curl away from him as vapor, slicing through the chilly air. Insano had chewed him out for almost half an hour after they had returned, angry to the bone. He'd had to channel several lesser programs into the transporting beam, and even then the amount of energy it required meant they were without a few essentials- notably, heat. The base was _freezing._

The return to the base had been entirely depressing. Spoony and Marz had been rushed to the medical bay almost as soon as their feet hit the ground, and no one had seen them all night. This meant that the other three were alone. They'd gathered in the kitchen, brewing pot after pot of coffee in an attempt to stay awake and wait for their friends to come back. That was the excuse, anyway.

They all knew the real reason they didn't want to sleep; their dreams would all the same. Sage and the General, winking out of existence. They had failed, and none of them could wrap their heads around it. They lost. They were the good guys! Good guys couldn't lose! They never did in the movies, or even on _Power Rangers_.

Chick had sat with her arms folded on the table, head resting on them. Every now and then she'd shift her position a bit, but remained silent up until she gave in to sleep and vanished. The Critic had disappeared after an hour of staring into space, and Linkara thought he was still whaling away at practice dummies in the training room.

So, he was the only one left, staring at his fifth (or sixth) cup of coffee, bundled up in a coat, hat, and blanket. Eventually, he spoke aloud for the first time in hours. "Activate Nimue AI."

There was a soft mechanical whir, and then: _"This unit is now online, and will begin accepting commands."_

Linkara couldn't help but grin at the familiar voice. "Hi, Nimue."

"_Hello, Linkara. It is a relief to speak with you."_

"Thanks."

There was a silence.

"_I have been informed of the trouble I have caused."_

Linkara blinked. "What?"

"_The unit known as 'Nurse' and I have become quite close."_

"Oh, yeah? Girl talk?"

"_Indeed. Though my mistakes were accidental, I feel an apology is in order."_

"Nimue, you don't have to apologize."

"_Errors in my internal system caused a mission to fail. I would accept an immediate disassembling if that would-"_

"Nimue, you didn't fail. We did."

There was a long pause, until Linkara felt himself grow antsy. "Nimue, could you see if anyone else is awake in here?"

"_Scanning… Scanning… Yes. Two humans."_

"Location?"

"_One is in the Training Room. The other, the Medical Bay."_

Linkara smiled for the first time that night.

The darkened medical bay felt more like a morgue as Linkara slipped into the room. Nurse, having been over-taxed with both helping the others do repairs on the base, and with tending to the Rangers injuries, had been put into sleep mode for the night, to allow her to recharge. This left the room unusually devoid of the usual ambient noise that emitted from the room's holographic projectors. Linkara could have sworn that if he dropped a pen on the floor in there, it would have sounded like someone dropping a brick.

"Hey."

Spoony started at the unfamiliar noise, and turned his head to look. Linkara inwardly winced at his friend's appearance. There were dark circles under Spoony's eyes, and he was shaking with the effort it took for him to sit up. Despite that, the gamer grinned at him.

"Hey."

Linkara walked into the Medical Bay, slowing briefly by Marzgurl's bed. She was out cold, breathing shallowly.

"Fractured skull and concussion," Spoony said blandly. "In case you were wondering."

Linkara sat next to him on an empty bed. "What about you?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Does to me."

Spoony swallowed with effort. "Broken ribs. A couple."

Linkara sucked in air through his teeth. "Does it hurt?"

"It did, but they put me on some pretty good stuff." He waved a lazy hand at his IV. "I can see _sounds_, now."

The joke was fine, but Spoony's expression was worrisome. Like he was only being funny for Linkara's benefit.

Linkara smiled, but it felt fake, like the kind of smile that one gives a person when trying to keep them from stressing over bad news.

"Lucky you." He said, "When do you think you'll be back up?"

Spoony grew quiet, his eyes far away and distant, as if he could see something that Linkara couldn't.

"Dunno."

Linkara nodded. "We need you guys up, you know? That General guy is a piece of work. Reminds me of Vyce."

Spoony nodded, but didn't say anything. Linkara tried again.

"Why are you up?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

Spoony took a deep breath, and then another. "I think I'm done."

Linkara couldn't help but chuckle. "Hey, come on. I don't know what they've got you on, but you're not _dying_."

"Not yet," Spoony said shallowly. "But what about next time? I could. So could you. I almost got Marz killed today, and what did it accomplish? A big, fat nothing. This whole thing… all of this… Nexus, Insano, Malachite… I'm done."

Linkara stared at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. I said so at the very beginning- this is ridiculous. We're internet reviewers, dude! They need warriors. Not nerds."

"Spoony, come on-"

"Wait, scratch that." Spoony's tone was acidic. "Critic is the leader; after all, who wouldn't let a psycho who threatened to _kill all of us_ on multiple occasions call the shots? Marzgurl and Chick? Warrior princesses. Xena and She-Ra with less boobage. And you? The fucking champion of Earth, with years of magical battles under your belt."

The gamer paused. "The only one we don't need is me."

Linkara felt himself get angry. "Stop the pity party."

Spoony sat up, and his face paled. Despite his evident pain, the gamer managed to look furious.

"Well, _excuuuuuse_ me, princess!" He said, glaring "Just because I'm the only one brave enough to point out how stupid this is!"

Linkara's eyes narrowed, and he heard the words leave his mouth before he realized what they meant.

"What you're saying is that you'd rather save your own skin than stand up for what's right." He said, "You're not brave. _You're a coward._"

Spoony was silent, and the silence was the worst. Linkara would have preferred yelling, cursing, like the Spoony he knew. But all he saw was tranquil fury. And that, in itself was something, when in Spoony's hands, could be far scarier than any nightmarish creature from the depths of hell.

"Get out."

Linkara tried to backpedal. "Hey, come on-"

"Get out."

There was an awful pause. Linkara eventually stood and left, giving one backwards look. Spoony lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

The comic reviewer felt his stomach sink.

* * *

><p><em>Trivia<em>: _Mostly based off the movie "Pleasantville," which is amazing and should be more widely known. The team was originally "Pleasantville Knights" but I couldn't figure out how to make Sage turn into an enormous knight and kill everyone._


	6. Chapter 5: Shadow of a Doubt

_**Disclaimer**: See Prologue for proper disclaimer. _

_**Author's Note**: Esa and I would like to thank everyone who has been sticking with the story! (And, I'd like to thank Esa for being such an excellent and patient co-writer! And for pretty much saving my butt from writers block! As well as for writing some of the scenes in this chapter) Also, I apologize if there are bits that might seem confusing in one of the earlier chapters. I'm really sorry. But, hopefully there's bits in later chapters that will have some of it make some sense._

_**Special Note**: In memoriam of Justin, "JewWario" Carmical, who passed away on January 23, 2014. I never knew him as well as others did, having never met him in person, and only occasionally watching his videos, but I know that he will be missed dearly by those whose lives he brightened with his presence. May he, and his characters, live on in the hearts, memories and stories of others. _

_I know that this is probably not a proper tribute, but I'm currently unsure about whether or not to make a more proper tribute following my original plans (Which was going to be a separate three-to-four chapter crossover fic with one of series in the canon Power Rangers universe)._

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Chapter 5:<strong>__** Shadow of a Doubt**_

An arctic fog cut through Spoony's thin t-shirt, filling his lungs with burning shards of frost as he blindly stumbled through the blackness that surrounded him. This was obviously wrong, every synapse in his brain screamed at him. It hadn't been this cold, or this dark outside the building.

In fact, he had been pretty sure that it had like any other morning. Well, except for the fact that it seemed like almost half the state was convinced that he was the most dangerous wanted criminal in Arizona for reasons that he couldn't quite explain. Later, he would learn that most of the people who were chasing him were actually disguised Synthspectors. Those that weren't, he guessed had probably been manipulated into believing the lie, through some means or another.

He remembered feeling his heart beating in his chest as he and Burton hid. Police sirens wailed over the muffled thunder of booted footsteps, their owners yelling muffled commands to one another as they stormed past.

It was only a small comfort to him, he sighed as he looked up to the sky that they hadn't yet called in helicopters. But, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone ordered before this place started looking like the set of a summer blockbuster or a disaster film.

Burton blipped quietly as data flashed across his sensors swept across the area, mapping out the quickest and possibly safest escape routes he could. Suddenly, his cyclops eye lit up as something unusual appeared on his radar.

"_What is it_?" Spoony asked, sneaking a peek around the corner of the alley they had ducked into to avoid being caught, "_Pretty sure you're not going to be telling me that these guys all suddenly realized that this was just bullshit, and decided to go home_."

"_I picked up an unusual energy distortion coming from nearby_," the blue robot replied.

"_And_," the gamer asked, "_You're guessing that this distortion is that wormhole thing that Insano's message was going on about, right?_"

"_I'm not sure_." Burton said, "_It's not my fault that Insano forgot to download any sort of coordinates into my memory banks. And it's certainly not my fault that a certain someone failed to take into the account the usefulness of me being able to differentiate various types of energy distortions."_

"_Well_," Spoony rolled his eyes, "_it's not like we've ever needed something like that. This whole 'energy distortion and wormhole' stuff's more of Linkara and Pollo's thing—not ours. Ours is mad scientists, crazed ex-wrestlers, the undead, and Hell's janitorial services. But, whatever—where's this distortion coming from?_"

"_That construction site downtown_," Burton said, "_the strongest point seems to be coming from near the of the building._"

"_Great_," Spoony sighed, "_That's totally one of the things I wanted to do today; wake up, eat breakfast, and climb a freaking tower_."

"_Something doesn't seem right about this_," the blue robot said, "_I'm not sure that it's safe_."

"_I don't like it either_," the gamer replied, "_but we don't have a choice._"

Giving only a robotic, mechanical sigh in response, Burton followed his master and friend down the street towards the construction site.

Thinking back on it, Spoony realized he should have listened to him. Sure, he would gladly admit that he would have rather have dealt with stumbling through the void contained within the building than run the chance of a potentially messy end at the hands of a firing squad.

But, at the same time, everything here made his skin crawl. The coldness seemed to intensify with each step he took; biting at him until it almost felt as if it had become heat again, burning at his skin as its invisible talons raked across his skin. Not helping this intense burning feeling was the scent of burning leaves that filled his nostrils with their earthy, smoking scent.

Sounds, like the chirping of a bird and the rush of wings, bounced off the distant walls, it's sound magnified by the echo, caused the hairs on his neck to stand on end as he constantly looked over his shoulder, only to find himself staring into even deeper darkness.

That sound—it felt as if came from everywhere, making it almost impossible for him to know which way was which. As far as he was concerned, the room could have been constantly shifting and he would have never known unless he ran face first into a wall.

Another sound, this one the sound of distant footsteps, echoed from behind him, causing him to stand still, his muscles tensed as his ears latched onto the sound like a drowning swimmer to the side of a capsized boat.

Spoony's heart pounded louder in his ears as the footsteps grew louder. Sweat beaded on his skin, somehow managing to not immediately freeze into ice crystals as he steeled himself, slowly turning around to face the unknown visitor, praying that whoever they were that they were friendly.

"_Noah_?" a familiar deep voice asked hesitantly behind him, "_Hello? Is anyone in here?"_

Immediately, Spoony allowed himself to relax a little as he and Burton turned toward the source of the voice. The light from Burton's eye fell upon the figure of man, roughly around the same height as Spoony himself, with short dark hair.

"_Miles_," Spoony asked, halfway between surprised and relieved, "_What are you doing here, man?_"

"_Well_," Miles explained, "_You try waking up and finding your brother missing and the only thing he's left was a note that doesn't explain anything, and then hearing all this stuff about how he's some dangerous, wanted criminal. Yeah, you'd probably want a few answers too."_

"_Believe me," _the gamer replied defensively, "_If I even knew what was going on or why the hell half the state wants me dead, then you'd be the first person to know. Right now, I need to figure out where Insano's gone off to, and if he knows anything about what the flying hell is going on here, and both of us need to be trying not to get caught by the crazy mob outside."_

A wolfish smirk twitched at the corners of Miles' lips, made all the more sinister by the deep shadows falling across his face. Every warning signal in the gamer's brain that was capable of going off at that point should have been flashing with panic at that moment.

Spoony, unfortunately, didn't seem to notice this.

"_Oh, don't worry about them_," Miles replied, "_Let's just say that they won't be following us for a while."_

_"Dude," _Spoony smirked, "_I'm not even sure I want to ask you what you did. But, thanks anyways. Now if we could just figure out how to stop running around here completely blind and get up to the roof…"_

The two fell silent as they looked around them, straining to see past the night-like emptiness that surrounded them. No clues on just how deep into this void they were existed. All that they were sure of was that they were not walking on the ceiling, as that the ground below them carried the distinct texture of tiled floor, and that above them they could still hear the faint maddening bird-song echoing around them.

The younger man's eyes seemed to focus upon something, as if he noticed something that Spoony had not.

_"This way,"_ he said in flat montone as he began walking off, leaving the gamer to blink confusedly as he tried to catch up.

"_Whoa, hang on there_," Spoony said as he caught up with his younger brother, "_What makes you so damn sure that that's the right way?"_

Miles glared at him, with a look that simply suggested that questioning him at that moment would have ranked up there with sticking a fork in an electrical socket or taunting a grizzly bear in terms of things that would be very dangerous to do at moment. However, before either of them could say more, a distant rumbling of footstep and distant shouts echoed from somewhere behind them, rapidly growing louder and more thunderous by the second.

With a hesitant nod, Spoony followed the younger man, reasoning that while he still had his doubts, it was probably better than risking certain death at the hands of an armed mob.

The rest of the trip, the gamer noted, was fairly easier, but none the less nerve wracking. While they had been lucky enough to find the stairs, the blindness, disorientation and coldness that Spoony only gradually lightened with each new floor they advanced to.

Perhaps it was the near sensory deprivation levels of blindness that were causing him to hallucinate, but he swore that he could always see something moving out of the corner of his eye. But, no sooner would he turn his head to look, it'd disappear into the ether as if it had never existed.

Not helping matters in the least was the sounds. Faint echoes of voices he could have sworn he recognized, sounded all around him, mocking him with their impish laughter. What they were laughing at, Spoony wondered, feeling his cheeks involuntarily grow hotter with rage to the point he could almost swear that he could see steam around him.

Even that bird, its chirping call ever present amongst the laughter, seemed to be delighting in his confusion and anger as he wandered about blindly.

What, he wondered, did these voices know something that he didn't? Or did the sight of a grown man stumbling around in complete darkness seem to amuse them to no end? He shouldn't have let it bother him he tried to tell himself as he breathed deeply. It wasn't real—they were just figments of his imagination.

Nothing to worry about.

What felt like hours later, the two had finally climbed their way to the roof of the building. The gamer squinted as sunlight suddenly hit his eyes like a punch being thrown at his face by a professional boxer. Although he had often complained in his past about the unbearable heat in Arizona, he couldn't help but feel just a bit relieved to feel a warm wind kiss his cheek as his lungs took in a deep breath of fresh air as it were the first breath he'd taken in years.

And yet, he couldn't help but notice that the air here felt strange against his skin. He couldn't place what it was, as that it felt as if it was constantly shifting in density, but he assumed that they must have been close to whatever wormhole or distortion that Insano had been talking about.

No sooner had he thought this, did he see a flash of light from just below the edge of the building's flat roof. Without a thought, the he and Burton ran towards the source of the light, stopping as they peered over the ledge at the swirling portal that danced before them.

"_So Burton_," Spoony asked, "_You think that you can get a more accurate read on this, now that you see it?_"

Burton, his voice now seeming to work again, began to speak, when a bleeping alarm emitted from him, drowning out any words. Spoony's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline as they raised themselves in a look of concern and surprise.

"_What's going on?"_ he started to ask, "_What-?"_

Another cold, mocking laugh, this one clearer and louder than the ghostly echoes from the abyss, rang in his ears, sending an uncomfortable chill crawling down his spine, like ice water being poured down his back.

"_I can't believe it_," he heard his younger brother's voice laugh, "_I can't believe that it's really that easy to fool you._"

Slowly, Spoony turned around. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him, he thought, as he caught a flash of sliver in his vision.

Miles leaned against the doorframe, grinning slyly as if he imagined the gamer to be a rat trapped within the clutches of a hungry lion, as he aimed a pistol at the gamer's head. This wasn't possible, Spoony thought shaking his head furiously; there was no way that his own brother had turned against him.

"_No_," Spoony stammered "_It—it can't be! But, you—?"_

"—_Tried to help you?"_ Miles finished for him, "_For a guy who spends too much of his time nitpicking video games and movies, you sure don't seem to notice the obvious don't you_?"

"_So_," Spoony frowned, "_You're telling me that this was a setup, huh? You sent those guys on a wild goose chase so that you could finish me off yourself_."

"_Exactly_," the younger man replied, "_And you want to know why? It's because you're a dirty coward. You're so desperate to escape one mess that you blindly stumbled right into another._"

It was as if the gamer's shoes had melded into the concrete as he clenched his fists in rage. Part of him wished that the firey rage within him burned bright enough to blind him. At least that way, he could act foolishly without a care. But, alas, he seemed to have no such luck, as he reminded himself that this was not any random person on the street, or even any of the anonymous trolls on the internet—this was his brother; the same guy that he'd known his entire life, and who he thought was the one guy in the world he could trust not to turn against him.

"_Face it_," Miles laughed, "_you're no better off than the rest of the so-called 'bad guys'_."

The words felt like repeated punches to the gut for the gamer, as he continued to stand there, his face steadily growing redder and redder with suppressed rage, until one was sure that, much like boiling water, it would bubble over and spill everywhere.

Meanwhile, Burton, not affected in the least by the younger human's taunts, scanned the situation with a critical eye. Something wasn't right about this, his sensors indicated. On one hand, while his visual and auditory sensors were telling him that he was indeed looking at and hearing _something_, every other sensor in his robotic body was strongly telling him that Spoony was being threatened by nothing more than a shadow.

"_Let him attack you,"_ Burton whispered to the gamer.

At this, Spoony's eyes flew open as he gaped at the blue robot in disbelief. Seriously, he wondered, was Burton now turning against him as well? Was there anyone here that didn't want him to see his brains splattered against the walls like chunky salsa?

"_What_?!" he practically shouted, "_Don't tell me you're going to pull the same shit Brutus did on Caesar_. _Because seriously, there are, like hundreds of Shakespeare plays that are way better to be ripping off than that one. "_

"_No_," the blue robot assured him, "_I'm just testing a theory. If I'm correct, you won't be hurt at all_."

Spoony, although skeptical, nodded as he tried to face his younger with a mask of calmness that he wasn't sure he had the energy to make at that moment. This was stupid, his shaking hands tried to tell him; everyone knew what was inevitably going to happen. He was going to feel the piercing ache of at least six bullets tearing through his skin, snapping his bones like brittle candy, as the force of the shots propelled him backwards far enough to knock him off the building, where gravity would take it's turn with him, shattering the rest of his bones as his lifeless body was propelled into the concrete below.

"_G-go ahead_," he tried to say calmly but found the words feeling like sandpaper against his throat, "_S-shoot me_."

As Miles' fingers curled around the trigger, Spoony's eyes squeezed shut, anticipating the high-pitched whine of the bullets as they streaked through the few feet of air between them. While he did hear a very loud bang, as if the gun was fired, the bullets never seemed to reach him.

Instead, a loud rush of noise, and a heavy, cold wind filled his ears. Cautiously, the gamer opened one eye, daring to look at why he was not yet dead.

Within seconds, the other eye was open as he gaped at the spot Miles had been standing. Only, this time, his younger brother was no longer there; and neither was the seemingly endless void of shadows that filled the inside of the open door behind him.

"_What the-?"_ Spoony started to speak, but quickly found the words lost as something hit him hard in the back of his shoulder blade, sending him crashing into the concrete roof below him. Stars danced in his vision as he slowly picked himself up of the ground, wincing as he accidentally agitated the newly forming bruise on his back.

"_Hmph_," A voice—much higher and far too girlish and chirpy to have been his brother's, huffed angrily as the gamer stood, "_I should have known that your little toy would have picked up on simple illusion techniques like that_."

His first impression of the owner of this voice was that he'd finally snapped and was officially hallucinating. He always knew that that one time in his past when he wrote a fanfic was going to come back and bite him some day. But, what he couldn't figure out was why exactly his hallucination would take the form of a ninja-girl, when he was pretty sure that logic would have suggested that it would have been more _Highlander _based.

The woman appeared to be considerably young, perhaps not far outside of her late teen years. Short, feather-like strands of pinkish-gray hair poked out from underneath the dark hood atop her head, framing her pointed, bird-like face. Or rather, he guessed her facial features were bird-like, as that the lower half of her face was covered by a dark, cloth face-covering.

Strangest of all, was probably the two small, brownish-grey bird wings that seemed to be quickly disappearing into her back as she landed before him, her booted feet tapping gently against the concrete.

"_So, let me guess_" Spoony said, "_You're a cosplaying as someone's lame Naruto Mary Sue_?"

"_Uh, excuse me_?" The bird girl replied haughtily, "_But who was it that had you wandering around in total darkness for like hours? And who had you convinced that your brother had betrayed you? Um, pretty sure that was me. Name's Retsukagi, for your information._"

"_Yeah_," Spoony smirked, "_Sorry, but I'm not going to bother remembering your name. I've got to see a doctor about some dreams I've been having. So, if you could just kindly just piss off and never bother me aga—_"

Faster than he could comprehend, the woman teleported out of sight, only to reappear closer to him, knocking him down again with several quick attacks, before teleporting back to her original place.

He coughed, his eyes widening in alarm as he felt warm blood trickle from the corners of his mouth, as he struggled to stand as his muscles lit themselves on fire in protest.

"_You're lucky that I only wounded you_," Retsukagi said, "_I like making little worms like you squirm before I kill them._"

Before Spoony could even have a chance to respond, the bird girl teleported again, hitting him with another bout of swift jabs. She must have been part humming-bird, he thought as he tried to swing at her. She flittered about him, appearing one moment, only to disappear seconds later.

But, her laugh—high pitched and mocking—always hovered about the air like the fog that rolled across the floors within her illusion.

Burton, having now remembered the fact that Spoony had installed a death-laser on him, began firing toward the constantly moving bird woman, just barely missing her before she teleported out again. However, much to the relief of both of them, he did finally manage to land a decent shot upon her.

With a startled screech, the girl toppled to the ground, clutching her side as she glared at the two of them with sharp, golden eyes.

"_F-fine_," she huffed, clutching at her chest, "_Go ahead and try to escape. But, even if you do make it out of here, what about your friends? It's not like your any use to them. I've been watching you for a while, and if there's two things I know you're good at, it's screwing things up, and letting people down. Why do you think that Insano abandoned you?_"

Spoony tried to open his mouth to speak, but found himself unable to speak, as if some invisible, gremlin was clamping his throat shut with its strong, clawed hands. Why had Insano just left him here, he wondered, when he could have at the very least told him where he was? But, if what this Retsukagi woman was saying was even half-true, why was he bothering rescuing him now? Was it just for the mad-scientist's sick amusement?

Yeah, he almost laughed bitterly, that sounded like something Insano would do.

"_What about the others_?" Retsukagi hissed, "_They might like you now, but trust me—sooner or later you're going to screw it up and they'll turn on you faster than you can blink. Well, given that you don't accidentally get them killed_."

"_Spoony_," Burton said, _"Let's go. The portal could close at any minute. We're wasting our time with this ninja-wannabe_."

Although his thoughts still buzzed as scattered, vaguely interconnected thoughts latched onto one another like mountain climbers in a blizzard, Spoony nodded, turning away from the fallen ninja.

"_Yeah_," Spoony agreed distractedly, "_a wannabe…right_."

However, he should have realized that this was a bad move, for no sooner had he turned his back, had the bird-girl managed to clamber to her feet.

"_A wannabe_?!" the bird girl shrieked, "_Argh! How dare you_!"

What happened next had happened far too fast for him to have comprehended. A gale of cold wind hit him hard in the back. A gurgled gasp escaped his throat as he felt something, like several blades, piercing into his back. His vision darkened and the scent of blood filled his nose as he fell forward, toppling off of the concrete ledge.

He wasn't going to make it, he thought as the light of the slowly shrinking portal filled his dimming vision.

And then, with a gasp, Spoony woke up.

Cold sweat dripped down his face as he sat up. He gritted his teeth a little as a small, but brief pang shot through his chest, leaving a dull aching soreness in its wake. Cautiously, he looked down at his chest. Most of the bandages that had been wound so tightly around him in an effort to keep his fractured bones together had been removed, and now only a faint bruises and pinkish scars remained.

"Good morning, Spoony!" Nurse's voice chirruped sweetly as she materialized across the room from him, "I see that you're capable of movement. That's a good sign."

Spoony blinked at her through his slowly focusing vision. For a moment, he was unsure if the woman that was talking to him was the same holographic humanoid that called herself Nurse. Today, where long flowing light-brown hair cascaded down her back, shorter blonde locks framed her face. She also seemed a bit taller, and just a bit curvier than the petite young woman she had been when they'd met. However, the outfit she wore remained much the same.

Of course, he reminded himself, Nurse was technically a computer construct. Her appearance was nothing more than a series of code projected into a semi-corporeal form, so it wasn't exactly beyond her capabilities to change her appearance on a whim.

"We managed to speed up you and Marz's recovery over the night," Nurse continued as she walked around him, giving him a quick examination with her hollow blue eyes, "But you still might not want to try not straining yourself too extensively. At least not for another 3.8 minutes."

Spoony sighed as he slowly swung his legs over the cot. He noticed that Nurse still watched him as he moved, but the furrow in her eyebrows did not seem to be out of concern for his physical condition so much as something else.

"What?" he joked, flashing a mock grin, as he ran his hand through his hair "Not used to seeing an attractive guy like me in a place like this?"

"No," Nurse replied bluntly, "Given that currently four other males reside within this dimension, each of which could be considered 'attractive' according to any individual's subjective standards and definitions of the term. And given that you, and the others, have visited the infirmary before, I assure you that I am quite accustomed to having visitors. My concern is in regards to the confrontation between you and Linkara last night."

At the mention of the fight, the gamer's face fell. He sighed as he looked down at his hands, which were now absently playing with the edge of the cot.

"Oh," Spoony said, his voice low "You heard all that?"

"Even my diminished operating capacity during sleep mode," Nurse explained, "my auditory receptors were still able to pick up some of the conversation. Rest assured, however, that any eavesdropping on my part was not done intentionally."

Spoony said nothing as he sheepishly tried to avoid eye contact with her. His stomach squirmed uncomfortably as he remembered the argument between him and Linkara. Perhaps he should apologize, he thought. After all, he felt terrible for snapping at his friend, and he felt even worse for having to burden him with his self-pity.

On the other hand, the left over anger reminded him; Linkara had called him a coward. And, while perhaps there was a little bit of him that felt that perhaps the comic reviewer was right to some degree, he still felt a bit irritated by it.

"It's not true," Nurse said quietly, "What you said about you planning on quitting and abandoning the team?"

_Abandoning_—the word felt like sour taste in Spoony's mouth, like biting into a grapefruit or a lemon, but without the sweeter aftertaste, as he mouthed the word to himself. That wasn't what he was thinking about doing was it? It wasn't like they actually _needed_ him or anything. It was more like how when a plane starts to go down over the ocean, people tried to remove the excess dead weight in order to keep it from sinking.

So why did he feel so horrible about it?

And why, he wondered, did Nurse actually sound slightly upset by the thought of him leaving? He had to have been imagining it, he thought. After all, she herself had told him that she was incapable of feeling or expressing emotions that were unnecessary to her duties.

"Perhaps," Nurse speculated, "This relates to these feelings of 'fear' and 'loneliness' that you discussed with me the other day?"

"Maybe," he sighed, leaning back as he stretched his arms, "Or it could have more to do with the fact that getting our assess handed to us tends to put me in a bit of a pissy mood."

"I see." Nurse replied, "While psychological examination may not be one of my primary functions, I suggest possibly consulting with Doctor Tease regarding that. Also, I might suggest that you could talk with Linkara again, possibly explaining the reason for your thoughts. I could have Nimue locate him for you. But, I believe that you can find him in the library, as that he appears to recently be spending most of his time there."

"Resarching, I'm betting." Spoony replied

"Would you like for me to contact him?" Nurse asked

"No," the gamer sighed, "I'm pretty sure that I'm the last person he'd want to see right now."

"Understood," Nurse replied, "I won't relay a message to Nimue, then."

At that moment, a flashing light and a loud, wailing siren filled the room. Every time Spoony had heard that siren; he couldn't help but feel his skin crawl with dread. Like the others, he knew that that sound would never herald anything less than some trek into some strange and unknown universe that would inevitably try to screw them over in the most dangerous and humiliating ways possible.

But now, that shrill, shrieking sound felt as if it carried deeper, more ominous warning this time around. They knew that he—the dark, armored figure that had so easily done what his two allies had failed to accomplish—would probably be out there, waiting for them. What if this time, he didn't hesitate to kill them?

And what about Retsukagi? He wondered. She worked for Malachite, didn't she? Where had she gone after she attacked him on the rooftop so long ago? Had Malachite, or someone else destroyed her? Was she still out there, traveling from world to world, collecting and eliminating his missing colleagues before he and the others could find them? Or had she always been following him, hidden out of sight, waiting for him to slowly drive himself insane as she plotted her next move?

"I have a message from Doctor Insano," A second voice, this one belonging to Nimue rather than Nurse spoke, bringing the gamer back to reality "He says, and I quote '_Spoony, you dribbling pile of rat-filth, quit wasting your time and get to the Command Center, or so help me, I will fry your lazy ass with my death ray_.'"

"You'd better go," Nurse replied, tossing him a shirt, "I must go make preparations for the inevitable damage repair that will be necessary after you and the others return. I hope that this time, I might be have the burden of accommodating for running diagnostic scans on any additional persons you might aquire."

"So," Spoony said as he hastily pulled the shirt on over his head, "In English; you hope we succeed, and bring back another reviewer?"

"Was there a malfunction in my vocal transmitters?" Nurse asked, the faint, almost unheard traces of a laugh echoing faintly in her words, "I thought I was clear."

Spoony smirked a little, despite himself as he left, sprinting down the hallway as fast as his feet could carry him. However, his smile did not seem to make it past the door of the infirmary, before once again the ever hungry gremlins of doubt and despair began to gnaw at his consciousness like a dogs chewing on a bone.

Everything he knew about the universe and himself, they reminded him, told him that the chances of things going smoothly were always incredibly slim. He just hoped that, maybe he'd get lucky and this mission would be among the very miniscule percentage where things went alright.

* * *

><p>Whoever said that the deserts were the hottest places on Earth had clearly never been in the jungle before.<p>

Thick, invisible clouds of hot damp air clung to her skin, weighing her down as if a pile of wet wool blankets had been thrown on top of her, slowly suffocating her as her lungs struggled to process the heavy air. Her movements felt labored and sluggish as her aching muscles struggled to maneuver the untamed and overgrown terrain.

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, working double-time to pump blood and oxygen through her body under these new restrictions, making her feel as if she were going to faint with each step she took.

What was worse, MarzGurl couldn't quite shake the feeling that there were eyes hiding in the thick canopy of trees, watching their every move. She couldn't help but fear that the General had followed them here, and was now waiting for the moment to attack.

About the only small relief that she was glad of, was that this dimension happened to be a prehistoric-esque one, which meant that her disguise only required the bare minimum of clothing to pass as a native here , while still keeping her from running around embarrassingly nude. So, at least she didn't have to deal with that unpleasant feeling of her damp denim jacket and her t-shirt clinging to her..

Still, she thought as she looked down at the outfit her morpher had chosen for her, she kind of wished that they would have had something a little more complex than the crude cloth and animal skin dress she wore. A pair of pants would have probably been a little nicer.

Well, it wasn't like she could complain, she thought as she glanced behind her toward Spoony and Linkara, at least it was a little more than the meager, but still modesty preserving, coverings that the two of them currently wore.

She noticed that the two were unusually quiet, even to the point of refusing to even look at one another. Whether it was their own paranoia acting up, or something else, she couldn't be certain of.

Quite frankly, she added, it wasn't something she was dying to ask. She feared that, judging by the fact that the two of them looked even surlier than if they had been deprived of sleep for three days and forced to marathon through the worst and most soul-destroyingly offensive works ever committed to any form of media, that asking them the simple question of "_what's wrong_" would probably result in snapping what little sanity they may have been using to hold themselves together at the moment.

And given that every sound that echoed through the exotic flower scented labyrinth made her feel like her skeleton was trying to leap out of her body, she probably would have felt like snapping as well.

She tried to keep herself calm as she thought back on the mission at hand. The base's computers' had picked up a reading from this dimension. An additional scan had identified the source of the signal to have been Paw. While they were thankful that this dimension would be scarcely populated, thus making it easier to pick him out in the crowd, the fact that the reading had been very unspecific about where he was.

Actually, she thought, that was something that always bugged her about the scanners at the base. They could always pinpoint who or what was creating the distortion, but they could never pinpoint a location that wasn't at least a two or three mile wide radius.

Either way, they had decided that it would be better for them to split up, and cover more ground. As such, Chick and Critic had taken one half of the area, leaving Spoony, Linkara and herself with the rest. Eventually, they would meet in the middle of the area.

She just hoped, she thought as she tapped her morpher, bringing up a map of the area, that they were having better luck at finding anything in this overgrown tangle of leaves and vines.

"Any readings on the tracker?" Linkara asked as he pushed another thick, rope-like vine out of the way.

"Yeah," she replied, smiling as she pointed ahead of them, "Just ahead and moving. Keep your eyes open, though. I'm willing to bet that he's not alone."

"Any sign of Devafen, Tegon or the General hanging around?" Linkara asked, looking straight ahead, as if he were expecting them to be hiding in the trees.

"None," the Blue Ranger shook her head, "Either their still disguised, or we might have actually gotten lucky enough to have beaten them to the punch. Spoony—contact Critic and Chick and let them know what's going on. Linkara and I will try to make sure Paw doesn't manage to slip out of our sight before they can catch up to us."

The Yellow Ranger's eyes narrowed as a chirping bird call echoed through the tree tops around them, causing him to jolt as he looked around him with sudden alertness. However, he sighed and summoned his morpher and contacted the other two.

The conversations was relatively short, as that Critic and Chick had also gotten a lock on Paw's location, and were already heading in that direction. In fact, the two of them were probably a lot closer to the musical reviewer's location than they were.

In a matter of minutes the group had gotten close enough to have caught sight of Paw and his companions. It was almost amusing, she thought, as she and the others hid behind a thick cluster of nearby bushes, seeing the very lanky and lean figured Paw hunting along side the large and brutish cavemen as if it were nothing out of the ordinary for him.

Moving quietly, as not to attract unwanted attention by rustling leaves, the Blue Ranger pressed a button on her morpher, aiming it toward the cavemen figures. The air rippled as an invisible shockwave shot from the device and passed through the group. Insantly, flecks of orange flickered on the bodies of the five larger hunters, before vanishing, while a few spots of magenta hovered above Paw's skin. In the distance, also obscured by a few bushes, she caught a brief, firefly like glimmer of pink and red, meaning that Chick and Critic had already arrived.

Once more her attention went back to the orange-marked hunters. Although she knew that they were disguised Synthspectors, she was still surprised how few there actually were around Paw. At the very least, the five of them alone could easily take out the group, provided they separated them.

She exchanged a quick look with Linkara and Spoony. The comic reviewer returned her look with a knowing nod before looking back toward the group. The gamer did not make eye contact with her, but the subtle shift in his posture indicated that he had heard her.

Immediately, she started rustling a few of the leaves in front of her, trying to simulate the appearance of a small animal scurrying about in the bushes. Apparently it worked, as one the brutish cavemen Synthspectors nudged his other companion, pointing and grunting under his breath toward where she was hiding.

She held her breath as the two Synthspectors drew closer, their spears drawn. On one hand, she knew that one of them at least would be caught off guard when she managed to attack him, and that the other would probably be easily knocked out by either Spoony or Linkara. On the other hand, that still left three to deal with. And while it was probably considerably easier for all five to deal with, the few remaining ones were more than likely going to have their guard up. Plus, it was always likely that the two knocked out Synthspectors wouldn't remain so for long.

Before she could change her mind, she leapt out of the bushes, tackling the armed hunter as she rolled forward. Nearby she heard another thud as the second one was stunned and Spoony and Linkara emerged into the clearing. Following shortly behind them, Critic and Chick emerged from the clearing.

The remaining three, sensing that this was probably more than just a typical ambush by a rival group of hunters, drew their weapons, forming a circle around Paw, who looked on slightly confused.

However, before any of them could react, the air suddenly became deathly still, causing all parties within the clearing to look toward the sky. It felt as if night were rapidly approaching as the shadows within the already dimly lit jungle rapidly grew heavier and thicker, shrouding the small clearing under its veil.

The last thing the reviewers caught sight of before being plunged into the void, was the group of Synthspectors reeling backwards and collapsing onto the ground as if they'd been hit on the back of the head with a blunt object. Immediately, their disguises faded, briefly revealing the creatures' true forms, before those two were whisked away in a swirl of fog and dust.

The five Rangers blindly pushed through the darkness as they grouped around where they believed Paw was. Of course, given that they were staring at pitch blackness, it was difficult to tell exactly how close to him they were, had it not been for them being able to hear the sounds of Paw's voice.

"What the heck?" Paw asked, "It's way too soon to already be nightfall!"

"Gee," Chick muttered under her breath, "whatever led you to _that_ brilliant observation?"

Nearby, Critic let out a frustrated growl, swearing to himself as a faint, faltering bleep and a static met their ears. It must have meant that, once more, an error was messing with their communications, leaving them temporarily stranded.

_Figures, _MarzGurl rolled her eyes. If she didn't know any different, she would have sworn that it seemed like the base's monitoring systems malfunctioned in the middle of a crisis on purpose, as if Insano and the others were intentionally leaving them there to fend for themselves. Of course, she tried to tell herself that was stupid—the only thing that could be blamed for everything going wrong at once was Murphy's Law deciding that it had to take affect.

"Well damn," Chick said, "Just when we think everything couldn't suck worse. Seriously, screw this mess, you guys. We've got Paw, and those Synthspector freaks are gone. I don't see a reason to still be hanging around here."

"I agree with Chick," Linkara said, "Chances are that whatever spell they've cast over this place is interfering with our communicators. We'll probably have a better chance once were out of whatever spell was cast over this place."

"Excuse me," Paw said, "As fascinating as I find this discussion to be, I think I'm more curious about who you are and how you seem to know my name when I obviously don't know any of you."

"We'll explain later," Critic said, following the musical reviewer's voice until he was sure that he was close enough to him to take him by the arm, "Right now we gotta focus on trying to keep our heads on our shoulders."

Critic thought he sensed a faint movement, indicating that Paw agreed with him. However, they had not managed to get even a few yards before they found themselves being swept off their feet as a tornado-like blast of wind rolled through the area with the swiftness and force of a raging river.

A musical, almost mocking bird call, echoed hauntingly through the air as yet another gale cut at them with its blade-like sharpness. The next few moments moved far too quickly for them to get a clear grasp on what happened. All they could know for certain was that they could hear the shouts of their formerly missing co-worker as something, or someone appeared within the darkness.

Faster than they could snap their fingers, Paw's screams were muffled, before fading into silence as both he and the figure disappeared. It was probably only a small relief that not soon after that had happened the darkness was lifted, allowing them to see again.

"Everyone alright?" MarzGurl asked as she helped Chick get back on her feet.

Only annoyed groans and grunts were given in response, as if to silently say: _No, we're not okay! Paw just got kidnapped while we just sat around chatting like idiots! _

Although at first glance it seemed that everyone was equally roughed up, judging by the dirt and scratches that covered their faces and bodies, this might not have been the case. While all of them were a bit shaken up, none seemed more so than Spoony. The Yellow Ranger's face was abnormally pale as his body trembled, just barely able to keep itself from collapsing into a ball. His lips moved, but only the sounds of heavy breathing and a few barely audible, mouse-like squeaks escaped.

However, none of them noticed this as a more immediate concern brought itself to their attention at that moment. The thick, nearly impenetrable jungle of vines and trees had given way to a more open and rockier plane. It was strange and a little unsettling, they thought, that none of them could recall running far enough to actually have even escaped the small clearing they had been in. So how, they wondered, could they now be so far outside of it?

A screeching roar echoed through the air, freezing the reviewer's blood as cold terror crept down their spines. Slowly, they turned their heads to catch a glimpse of the creature that had had created such a horrible sound. And, almost immediately, they wished that they hadn't.

Two rows of pointed teeth glistened high above them in the morning light. Attached to that razor-sharp maw was the leathery, reptilian face of a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex. Had any of them not felt their minds being clouded with the sudden urge to run, they would have pointed out how cliché the entire idea of having a deadly encounter with a T-Rex would have seemed in one of these "heroes get sent back to prehistoric times" scenarios.

"I don't want to state the obvious," Linkara said, "But I think it might be mad at us for trespassing into its territory."

"Oh really," Critic managed to snark, "Are you sure that it wasn't just having a bad day?"

The towering dinosaur roared again and stalked a few feet forward, causing Critic to grab Chick behind the shoulders as he ducked behind her in an effort to put whatever he could between him and the fifteen foot tall carnivore staring at him with it's beady orange colored eyes.

The Pink Ranger's body went rigid with fear as she felt the creature's hot breath bear upon her as its deafening roar filled her ears. Thankfully, as it stomped closer, the 'Fight or Flight' instincts in her brain had kicked in, and she and Critic scrambled out of the way just seconds before the beast's feet could trample either one of them.

"Oh that is it," Chick said as he prepared to morph, "I've had enough of Barney the Dinosaur over here. It's time to morph!"

"No," Linkara said, "Our Ranger powers were designed to fight Malachite and other magical bad guys. We shouldn't be just wasting them on anything."

"Um Linkara," Chick said as she rolled out the way just as the dinosaur's tail swiped across the field, "I get the point you're trying to make, and I agree with it—I really do. But, just for the record, I'd like to point out that being chased down by a raging T-Rex does not qualify as 'just anything'."

"Well maybe not in normal circumstances," Linkara corrected her, "But, compared to what we've been up against lately, this actually is relatively tame."

"Less talking. More getting the hell out of here!" Critic said as he started running as far away from the rampaging creature chased after them again.

"Right," the Pink Ranger replied as she tapped her morpher, making another attempt at trying to contact the mad scientists. This time, fortunately, the call connected properly, and soon she could hear Insano's voice echoing from the device.

Although the animation reviewer expected the mad scientist be screeching at her upon hearing that the mission had failed, again. However, only an agitated huff, as if he were trying to keep himself from exploding, was heard. Followed by that was a very loud clacking of keys, as if he were practically slamming his fist down upon each individual key.

Nearby, Linkara had noticed that Spoony still stood there, lost somewhere in a daze. However, it seemed that this daze was only somewhat lifted long enough for him to look up to see the towering carnivorous dinosaur rushing at him, its jaw open and ready to rip him apart with it's teeth.

"Damn it," the comic reviewer swore as he began running toward his paralyzed friend as fast as his feet and panic could carry him.

It felt as if time had slowed dramatically as the reptile's massive face leaned forward, less than a foot away from Spoony's body. With a shout, the comic reviewer leapt the remaining distance between himself and the gamer, catching him by the waist as he rolled out of the way of the ancient lizard just seconds before it could ensnare either of them within its razor-sharp jaws.

Before either of them could see the giant dinosaur storm past them, a flash of light filled their vision just as they were whisked away from that dimension and everything that happened in it.

Or at least, that's what Linkara wished that it could have done.

* * *

><p>To say that the team was in the worst of spirits when they returned to the base would have been an understatement. The team looked as if they had fought through hell and back, as they shambled back to into the base. Even Insano, as much as the agitated twitch with his muscles suggested his irritation over their failure, seemed reluctant to actually berate them; for fear that one of them might actually decide to rip his face off with their fingernails.<p>

But even so, they knew that it was inevitable that they would find themselves gathered around a cramped table in order to discuss the long list of things that went completely and utterly wrong with today's mission. Had the group's mood not been quite as sour as it was at that moment, Critic would have jokingly suggested that they make up a slide show with graphs and charts to go along with it.

But, as much as they needed even the briefest of chuckles, none of them felt much in the mood for any sort of levity at the moment.

They looked like a pack of animals who just found themselves soaked to the bone after coming in from the rain as they gathered around the command center with grumpy frowns. Nurse flittered about silently, quickly checking them over for injuries, and tending to the ones that she could treat most easily.

"So," Insano said, trying his hardest to restrain himself, "What happened out there?! That's twice in a row that you've let them get away!"

"Look," MarzGurl sighed "We can't figure out what happened. One minute, we'd gotten a lock on Paw, and then the next, we were suddenly hit in the face with this wall of darkness. Next thing we knew, Paw was completely off our radars, and we ended up right in a T-Rex den."

"How?!" Insano nearly shouted, "We never picked up anything on the radar,"

"Don't ask us," Chick said from the corner as she retied her loose pigtails, "Ask our brave and fearless leader over there. Oh wait…I seem to remember him wetting his pants in fear the whole time."

"Hey!" Critic shot back defensively, "You try looking into the jaws of a 30-foot tall death machine with razor sharp teeth."

"You tried to use me a shield, you jerk!" Chick shouted, which earned her annoyed eye-roll from the Red Ranger.

"Well I had to do _something_," Critic replied, "The thing was going eat my pancreas as a light snack. What did you expect me to do?!"

Chick rolled her eyes, giving an exasperated sigh in response. MarzGurl, trying to keep herself calm, tried to ignore the squabbling pair as she turned her attention to the mad scientists.

"Are you sure that you scanners didn't pick up anything?" she asked.

"Of course we are," Celluloid tried to explain, "Of course, we did seem to be having a minor glitch in the systems, but it was too brief for it to have affected any of our sensors."

"…Except for the fact that you spilt coffee on the console," Tease sighed, "Seriously, I thought we told you about eating while on duty, already."

"Not my fault," the orange haired scientist whined, "It's not like I can get five minutes to myself to eat or sleep. You and Insano always have me running errands for you. And then you have the nerve to complain about it when I do it!"

"Excuse me," Tease huffed, "But I've never complained! If anyone's been complaining, it's Insano. Always acting like he's better than us…"

"Insano," Nurse interjected calmly, "While I don't intend to call your methods into question, I believe that Celluloid makes an accurate statement. The heavy workload and stress placed upon yourself and the crew, combined with a lack of outlets to properly channel this stress besides the training room, could have dire mental and physical side effects upon th—"

"—We'll discuss that later, Nurse," Insano said, his voice having much more of a hard edge to it than he intended, "Right now, we've got other matters to discuss. Like, how is it that somehow a group of complete imbeciles can repeatedly foil my plans for world domination, but somehow you can't figure out how not to completely screw up an easy mission!"

"Oh, that's simple" Linkara snarked, feeling hot anger bubbling in his throat, "Malachite and his goons actually have some power behind them. _You_ on the other hand, are a bumbling idiot in a cheap Halloween costume who can't even program the clock on a VCR without blowing it up!"

"He's got a point," Chick added, "I mean, if Insano's inventions didn't crap out every time someone plugged in a hairdryer, they probably could have given us a little advanced warning about that blackout."

"How dare you have such disrespect for SCIENCE!" Insano all but shrieked, "After all we did to try to save you from that wizard killing you and all!"

"Look," Critic said, "If there's anyone at fault here, it's clearly Spoony for leading us right into such an obvious trap."

If Critic had been looking at the gamer at the time, he would have probably thought twice about making that comment. Spoony's cheeks flushed red, as his knuckles turned white from gripping the table. Every second his confident smile faded away a little more as thoughts he'd fought so hard to keep down bubbled forth, burning his mask like acid.

"What the hell is your damn problem?!" Spoony practically yelled, "Why is it every time something goes wrong, you always automatically blame me? Do you ever get tired of that?"

Critic knew that this should have been the point where he'd take a few breaths and try to calm himself down. But, as it was, his own frustrations had hijacked his brain, spewing forth the words before they could be stopped.

"You want to know why?" Critic said coldly, "It's because you are a screw up! Every time something goes wrong here, it's been because you get in the way! Paw would have been with us if you hadn't choked out there. It's not like you even wanted to be part of this team. For crying out loud; Marz and Linkara practically had to_ trick_ you into it! And, I almost wish they hadn't—because, _we don't need you_!"

The silence that fell over the room could have leveled a large city and left no survivors, had it been able to be weaponized. Where this would have been the place where the gamer would have replied with an angry retort or a sarcastic comment, there was none to be heard. Instead, he looked like a lost puppy that had realized it'd been abandoned by his owner.

"What're you saying?" the gamer asked.

"I'm saying," Critic said each word with pointed emphasis, "You. Are. A. Coward."

Spoony's eyes were downcast, and his shoulders slumped—not at all like the usual confidence had he normally carried himself with.

"I see," he said quietly, "So, you think I'm useless and a coward too, huh? Maybe you and Linkara are right. Hell, maybe _I _was right."

Spoony stood up slowly, as if in a trance, as he walked out of the room. Although a tiny part of Critic wished that he could apologize, his frustrations at the situation still held control over his words, and Spoony's reaction to them had only fueled his anger. He wanted the two of them to yell at one another, to exchange blows with one another until all their pent up anger burnt out of their systems, leaving them as laughing, and exhausted mess on the floor.

"Go ahead," Critic shouted after him, "just run away like that, you bastard!"

Linkara felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he looked between the glowering Red Ranger and the rest of the room. Everyone's expressions were written with the same thing: a look that said "_we knew that this was going to end badly, but we don't know what to make of this._"

There was still a part of him that couldn't deny that Spoony was indeed acting childishly. But, at the same time, seeing the utterly defeated attitude that floated around his best friend like a bad stench, he couldn't help but fear that perhaps there was more to this than something as simple and childish. He just prayed that, hopefully, things would resolve themselves before anyone did something that they regretted.

* * *

><p>The darkened halls of Malachite's palace were unusually quiet as Malachite paced about his study. Sometimes he didn't know what had possessed him to establish a base within a castle. Perhaps he had become far too accustomed to wandering aimlessly during his centuries long search for the gauntlet that the mere idea of being in one location for too long made his skin itch with wanderlust.<p>

Perhaps it was something of a relief, he thought, that this dimension was vast enough to allow him the liberty of taking long enough walks to alleviate his uneasiness and organize his thoughts more clearly.

His eyes fell upon the brown book that lay atop the desk, almost blending in with the polished dark wood of the elegantly carved table. Despite himself, the faint traces of a smile appeared on the corners of his lips as his fingers traced over the book's worn leather cover. While perhaps the magic gauntlet he'd spent centuries trying to recover had been lost somewhere in time and space, at least his conquest of Earth had reunited him with something just as valuable to him—his spellbook.

Maybe it was all but useless to him, as that he'd memorized nearly everything contained within its worn and yellowed pages. But, there were still some notes hidden deep within that had not managed to commit themselves so easily to his memory as they once had.

Perhaps he couldn't find the lost stone that had once given him unlimited power, but he knew that hidden within the pages of that ancient spellbook laid the blueprints to recreate it, and perhaps make it even more powerful than before.

Why hadn't he simply located the spell book before, rather than bothering with a long, dangerous search for the missing gauntlet? He wondered. The answer was actually quite simple, he reminded himself. The process of creating such a powerful magical object, such as the stone and the gauntlet, was very complex, dangerous and very draining.

He shuddered as his mind flashed back to centuries ago, back when he had been still a somewhat young mage. The feeling of cold death surrounded him, pulling him down into an endless abyss like a monster carrying away its victim before devouring it's flesh, as he poured his very heart and soul into the creation of that gem.

Aeon had warned him about this, centuries ago. Though it felt like trying to recall a dream one had had back when they were younger, he could still hear the ghostly echo of his friend's voice, warning him of the possible, gruesome fates that could befall those who tampered with such magics.

Just as technology had its dark sides, magic also did not come with out its thorns. However, where the lines of technology were more restrained by the laws of natural physics, the lines of what qualified as 'forbidden magic' was slight fuzzier. Even magic that could cause damage was not necessarily considered forbidden, considering the fact that darker and deadlier magic existed.

However, Malachite no longer feared such dark magic. Perhaps that part of him had died eons ago, leaving him as nothing more than a shell of bitterness and vengeance. Or maybe it was still there, much like the souls of those that he and his minions enchanted and cursed, but was lost somewhere among layers of corruption.

Either way, he wasn't sure that the state of his humanity truly mattered anymore. He was probably better off without it, he reasoned. Surely centuries of wandering the world, watching everything of you knew and love wither and die, only to be replaced by something else, would have driven him insane a lot sooner than it already had.

He caught glimpse of movement within the shadows in the rafters of the ceiling, telling him that he was not alone in the room. However, his instincts told him that he had no reason to believe that this was any intruder, or that said visitor had they even been in the room long enough to spy on them.

"Hello, Retsukagi," His voice rasped as he smirked up at the hiding figure, "There's no need to hide; I heard you enter."

Another rush of beating wings was heard as the bird-like girl landed from the rafters, hovering just inches from the floor. She stumbled as her wings vanished, dropping her the remaining distance.

"Oh, you're such a killjoy!" Retsukagi pouted, crossing her arms, "And, the only reason you spotted me was because I wasn't trying to hide!"

"As if," another voice, this one clearly belonging to Devafen, said, "The only reason that he heard you is because you're just terrible at hiding."

The sorcerer and the ninja turned as Devafen and Tegon stalked into the room. While an amused smirk painted the lips of the catwoman, seeing the offended glare that her comment had sparked in the half-avian woman, the lizard-like man was not amused in the least.

"Where have you been?" Tegon asked, "We could have used you're help in a couple of fights, you know."

Retsukagi grinned as she casually stretched, leaning back against Malachite's desk.

"Hooray!" she giggled, "The scary lizard admits he's not as strong as he thinks he is! Isn't that adorable?"

"Quiet!" Tegon hissed, "And you still didn't answer my question."

"Well," Retsukagi playfully stuck her tongue out at the reptilian man, "How can I do both? Either you want me to be quiet, or you want me to answer your question, silly."

"I've given her another task," Malachite explained, "One that should help in dealing with the critics."

"Lord Malachite," Devafen asked, bowing a little, "Might I ask what sort of mission? Surely, you don't think that Tegon and I are incapable of defeating the critics? Yes, I know that we have been unsuccessful in previous battles against them, but I assure you that we shouldn't fail again."

At this, the faintest smirk crossed Malachite's lips, as if he found something about the idea of Tegon and Devafen actually being successful for once was incredibly amusing. Then again, considering that in all the battles the pair had fought against the Rangers, not once had they successfully defeated them.

"Well," Retsukagi replied, answering for Malachite, "The problem with your method is that you're way too into spell-slinging and fist throwing. You really should try freaking them out a little bit. Once you got them good and paranoid, and the team starts falling apart, then we can get to the really fun stuff!"

She giggled, kicking her legs out from under her as she rolled across the desk, landing gracefully on her feet behind it. Her high-pitched laugh made Tegon and Devafen's skin crawl involuntarily as it echoed off the stone walls of the study. It was as if she considered the mere idea of brutal death and destruction as something as delightful as kittens or rainbows.

"I assume," Malachite said, ignoring the still giggling bird-girl, "That you're both here for a reason."

"My Lord," Tegon began, bowing, "I have a few questions that I must ask."

"Go ahead," Malachite said, "But make it brief. I don't have all day, and this crowd in here is starting to make me feel restless."

The lizard man could not help but feel himself shudder as he saw himself reflected in the void of the sorcerer's sunglasses.

"May I ask," Tegon continued, "Why you've allowed our captives to live, even though they shown signs of awareness? And, what of this new guy you've recruited? Forgive my suspicions, but I find his actions questionable."

"Oh," A rasping, metallic voice mocked from the doorway, "I didn't realize that I was supposed to be making myself appear trustworthy to _you_. And the name is Vanmir. General Vanmir the Deathbane to you."

"Perhaps he hasn't earned my full trust," Malachite explained, "But, like you, General Vanmir has proven his worthiness. He's already managed to secure something that could be very useful to us."

Now the trio of the cat-woman, bird-girl, and lizard-man stood at attention. Each of them looked slightly intrigued by the notion of something that could possibly be considered useful to them.

"While Devafen only managed to cut off access between Linkara and his spaceship," General Vanmir explained, "I've managed to take the ship into my own possession."

"And how does that help?" Retsukagi asked, "So, we've got a big floating space thing that can shoot lasers? Never mind, I just like, totally saw the positive in that."

"Setting aside the part where I point out the obvious hypocrisy of _us_ using super-advanced technology," Devafen said, "Please explain exactly how having that rusting hunk of cosmic debris is going to help us."

"That 'hunk of cosmic debris' as you call it," the General said, "Contains a computer system, which holds vast amounts of information and data over various universes, as well as information regarding the comic reviewer's arsenal—much of which could be the basis of the weaponry being used by the reviewers and the scientists."

"And again," Devafen replied, "This doesn't help us. You realize that I disconnected that ship from the Artificial Intelligence unit that controls it? Even if I hadn't, there's still no way for any of us to be able to access any of it."

"The ship itself is of little value to me," Malachite interrupted, "I was speaking of those two scientists that he captured. I understand that you were able to persuade them into working with us?"

"Not entirely true," the General corrected, his words sounding clipped and formal, "I've 'persuaded' them to work primarily for me. However, if you remember, we agreed that they, and myself, would offer our services, in exchange that you allowed us to deal with removing the captive critics as we wished."

Malachite's frown deepened, as he continued to stare at the masked General. Had anyone other than the half-humanoid trio been observing the stare down between the two, they would have been almost surprised that a black hole hadn't been created between dueling voids of Vanmir's mask and Malachite's sunglasses.

"I remember," Malachite replied, "But don't forget that I also can easily choose to destroy both them and yourself should you act in any way that appears to be too suspicious, or should you test my patience with failure."

Sharply, he cast a warning glance across the room at his minions. As if compelled by some sort of spell, the group fell still, meeting his eyes with fearful expressions. It was as if they were afraid that the wrong movement would cause them to be obliterated on the spot. Even General Vanmir, despite the rigidness in his posture, shivered just slightly as Malachite's cold gaze fell upon him.

"The same goes for the rest of you," Malachite continued, "Remember that you were all nothing more than common criminals and outcasts before I rescued you. Don't continue to disappoint me."

"Understood, my lord," Tegon said, "But, if I might be so bold as to ask about our next strategy in undermining the critics? Every minute that they are left undefeated is another minute that they could potentially release another of their friends from your spell."

Before Malachite could reply, Retsukagi hopped up, teleporting a few feet before, landing in the center of the room.

"Between me and General Vanmir," she said, "The critics' confidence should already be weakening. I believe that the critic known as Spoony is already close to breaking. Hell, I already had him pretty shaken up during our first encounter a few months ago. And that's nothing compared to when I ambushed them earlier today. Pity I was only there to collect that reviewer guy. I could have had so much fun tearing that cute little gamer apart!"

The General covered his mouth, pretending to cough as he stifled a small chuckle. However it seemed that the other members of the group were far more interested in discussing battle strategy than they were about paying attentions to the sounds of their shark-like comrade.

"So," Devafen asked, yawning "What's the plan? Same as always—turn their friend into a monster, then throw a bunch of Synthspectors at them? 'Cause that always works. And by always I mean never."

At the mere mention of the Synthspectors, the lavender haired bird-woman's face darkened. Whatever traces of the giggling, perky young woman that existed in within her instantly vanished as her amber eyes narrowed and her fingertips trembled slightly.

"I'd rather we didn't have to rely on those _puppets_," she said, her voice heavy with disgust, spitting out the last word as if it were a piece of bad food.

And yet, there was a faint note of something else that existed, hidden somewhere in the undertones of her voice that suggested that perhaps her dislike extended beyond simple disgust. But, what it was that she felt, one could not be entirely sure.

"Like your little illusions aren't puppets?" Tegon snarked.

"At least whatever I construct in my traps isn't real!" Retsukagi replied, her voice rising "At least they aren't—"

"Enough!" Malachite said, his voice breaking above the usual rasping whisper that it usually was.

Insantly, the lizard-like man and the bird girl fell silent, both of them staring at their leader with wide eyes. None of them had ever heard the sorcerer's voice ever rise above a growl, even in his angrier moments.

"I have a plan," he continued, his voice now back to its usual unnervingly calm coldness, "And this time, I will oversee it myself in order to insure that it your incompetence does not mess things up."

"But m'lord," Devafen said, "You used a lot of magic during our conquest three months ago. I don't want to question you're capacity for handling magic—but even a highly skilled sorcerer as yourself would probably still be somewhat drained. Are you sure that you are able to handle fighting now?"

"I'll be fine." Malachite said, "I won't needlessly expend my magic in defeating them."

As Malachite began laying out the details of the plan, another rapt silence fell over the room. With each word he spoke, his followers became more and more confident that if this plan didn't ultimately destroy the critics, then it would at least damage them far beyond the point of recovery.

* * *

><p>Back in the Ranger's base, the frustration of the failed mission and the subsequent fallout had softened into little more than an aching weariness or dull agitation, as the residents in of the dimension retreated to the various corners, each attempting to put the events of earlier out of their mind in their own ways.<p>

Listlessly, Spoony lifted his face away from the pillow on his bed, glancing over at the alarm clock. He had tried sleeping in hopes that the rest would bring him even a semblance of peace of mind. However, his mind refused to let itself drift anywhere past a restless state on semi-consciousness, as it replayed the events of the past few hours over and over in his head. If one were to diagram the Yellow Ranger's train of thought at that moment, they would have probably said that it looked more like a tree branch than a train.

Sure, there was a central line of thought that all points connected back to, but most of his thoughts splinted into small lines. Why hadn't he saved Paw when he had the chance? He was the only one who even had half an idea what was going on. Everything logic and previous experiences should have said that he'd be the most calm and collected out of all of them in this situation. So, why did he freeze? What made this different than anything else he'd faced before?

Was it because he realized the actual weight of what could have happened if they failed? This wasn't like Insano or any of his other usual rogues that they dealt with (barring the ones that typically bothered Linkara)-if they failed, there was more than a good chance that death would be the kindest and most forgiving fate that awaited any of them.

No, he thought—that was only part of the reason. He shook his head as he heard the others words—Critic's, Linkara's, that illusion of his brother—echoing in his head, as loudly as if they were there, mocking him in his own quarters with him.

They were right, weren't they? He was a coward—too afraid to take action, on the risk that he might actually get hurt. He'd tried to convince himself that they were wrong. That was why he'd even accepted Insano's request to become a Power Ranger in the first place, wasn't it? And that was why he'd so foolishly tried to be a distraction for Chick when they were dealing with the pirates during their adventure in that world?

But, these efforts were meaningless gestures. Much like a dog pretending to be fierce, his bark was much worse than his bite. No matter what he did, or how he tried to act, nothing could ever change the fact that he had always been a selfish coward.

Maybe they had a point, he thought as he rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Maybe he didn't deserve to be in charge of the Yellow Ranger powers. It was only a string of complete luck, or misfortune that had put him in this situation.

No, he tried to tell himself as he sat up, that wasn't true. They needed him just as much as he needed them. Malachite's forces were tough enough against a five-person team. Surely, if he had never accepted this then the others would have been wiped out in their first battle.

But then again, who was to say that any of the other reviewers wouldn't have been a better choice? Critic was right, after all—in their last few missions, all he'd done was get in the way, and get everyone else in trouble. How many times had one of them gotten injured or put in a situation where they needed rescue? Had to have been at least three times now, wasn't it?

_There's you're problem,_ another part of his brain said, _It's just like Linkara said; you're spending way too much time moping around and feeling sorry for yourself. This shit right here is why you shouldn't be a Ranger. _

_ Besides, _it added, _why would you want to be a Power Ranger? All this running around in stupid looking spandex, fighting monsters and all this 'fate of the world' bullshit? You know that it's stupid! You wouldn't be feeling miserable if you hadn't gotten involved in this._

This wasn't working, he thought as he climbed out of bed and began pacing about the room. He couldn't keep letting himself keep going on with this type of thought.

His pacing led him to a desk in the corner of the room. Upon the desk lay a small stack of paper and a few pens. Thinking a little he sat down and started writing.

_Guys-_

_I'm leaving. I need some time alone. I'll come back when…_

Spoony trailed off, pen pausing over the paper. When what? When this was over? It would never be; there was no chance anymore. The Rangers were outmanned and outmatched. And the sooner the others could see that, the better. Shaking his head, he crumpled the paper and tossed it aside. He tried again.

_Guys-_

_I knew all along this wouldn't work. The sooner you can all see that, the better. I'll be…_

He paused again. He didn't know where he was going. Didn't really care, as long as it was away from here. He tried to tell himself that he was doing the right thing. He had to look out for himself; he couldn't just stay here and be killed. Or risk getting anyone else killed because of him, either. He was more of a liability to the team than an asset. And even more so while he was in a state like this.

_Guys-_

_What are we doing? What are we accomplishing? You may call me a coward, but…_

Spoony blinked at what he'd just written, and felt his stomach sink. But? But nothing. He was a coward, and this was him running away. There was no point in denying or trying to sugarcoat it anymore. For the last time, Spoony crumpled his paper and started over.

_Guys-_

_You're right. I'm a coward. You're better off without me. I'm sorry._

_-Spoony_

* * *

><p>Not long afterwards, the gamer found himself in the control room. He cursed under his breath as he fiddled with some of the knobs and buttons upon the console. Where to go? He wondered. Going back to his home dimension was out of the question. It was far too dangerous of a place to be—especially when that would probably be the first place that the others, as well as Malachite's army would go looking for him once they realized he was gone.<p>

He needed to go somewhere no one would ever go; somewhere where he could be ignored, forgotten. Somewhere he could start over. The gamer cocked his head to the side, almost smiling as he punched in a few coordinates.

As he readied himself on the platform, hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder and about to activate the transporter, when he heard a timid squeak come from the doorway.

"_Rikki-tee?"_

SOI bounced uncertainly into the room. The poor creature looked as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. He'd probably had a bad dream while taking a nap, the gamer guessed, and was probably just passing by on his way to find his dad, before hearing some noise in here.

Swallowing a curse, Spoony tried to smile. "Hey, buddy," he said, patting the creature on the top of his head, "Run along, alright?"

"_Rikki!" _the pink creature chirped, _"Rikki-tee-tikki?"_

"Well, uh… to the store!" Spoony lied quickly, "We're out of… toaster strudel."

"_Rikki-tee…"_

Spoony' smile began to feel fake, even to him. They both knew that that was a flimsiest of flimsy lies. Insano and the others had created food-replicators and synthesizers within this dimension—so even a normal child would have been able to call him out on an excuse like 'I have to go to the grocery store'. He felt his heart sink lower in his chest as he saw the wide-eyed, almost sad look on the child's face as it stared back up at him. For a moment, he almost considered picking up the orb-shaped child and leaving, putting all thoughts of even leaving out of his mind.

He couldn't lie and leave SOI like this, he thought. The little creature thought of him like family—like he was the cool adopted uncle or something. It'd be kind of terrible of him to just leave like this.

_I'm sorry,_ He thought as he sighed, _I don't mean to hurt you, either. But hopefully you'll understand. _

Thinking quickly, Spoony pointed to the console, where he'd left the note.

"Hey, buddy. I have a mission for you," he said, "I need you to go take that paper to your dad, alright?"

SOI practically purred, grabbing the note in his mouth and hopping towards the door. Spoony sighed, but his stomach plummeted once more as he turned back around.

The pinkish creature's eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them, staring at him with a tearful expression as if he'd witnessed the gamer kicking a puppy.

"_RIKKI-TEE?!" _

The note fluttered to the floor as Spoony hurriedly shushed the little creature, praying that Insano hadn't been close enough to hear him. SOI's frantic squeaks were like daggers to the gamers' heart as they grew more frantic and demanding.

"Leaving?" he said hurriedly, "No! Why would I be-"

"_Rikki-tikki! Rikki-tee-tikki!"_

"When in the _hell_ did you learn how to read?!"

"_Riiiiii_…." The little creature trilled, it's tiny tendrils flaring out in a motion that suggested he was saying '_Look at me; I might be a child, but, I'm the son of a mad scientist. I'm not stupid._'

SOI began to bounce in place agitatedly, squeaks getting louder and more pleading. _"Rikki-tikki?!" _

Spoony rolled his eyes, holding up his hands to calm SOI. Yet, he could feel his heart sinking even lower as he listened to the pink orbs mouse-like sobs.

"This has nothing to do with me not liking you!" He said gently, "Of _course_ I like you!"

"…._Riiikiii?"_ SOI sniffed.

"I don't hate the others either," Spoony tried to explain, " It's just that I… just need some time alone. You understand, right?"

SOI, in three large bounces, cleared the room and ended up in Spoony's arms. He buried his face in Spoony's chest, squealing pleas at him. Spoony patted his head as he hugged him.

"I'm sorry." He said, "I HAVE to. It's just not…"

Why couldn't he tell him the truth? He thought bitterly. Why couldn't he tell him that he was fleeing for his life because he was too afraid to face the fact that for once in his life he was more terrified than he'd ever been? Terrified not just for himself, but for everyone around him as well? That for once in his life, he didn't know if he could handle this much responsibility and pressure?

From down the hallway came the sounds of padding feet, and Insano's voice echoed into the room.

"Son? Is everything alright?"

SOI and Spoony froze, and the gamer swore under his breath. He began to pry SOI off of him, but the pink ball wouldn't be budged. It chirruped loudly in protest, and Insano's footsteps grew louder.

"Son? What's wrong?" Insano asked, the panic in his voice rising as his footsteps hastened, "Daddy's coming!"

Spoony looked around, nervous sweat running down his forehead like He had to do something; he thought wildly punching in a few buttons on the control panel. He couldn't let Insano know that he was in there; it'd just lead to too many questions that he wasn't sure that he could answer easily.

Just as Insano entered the room, it was in time to see his son and The Spoony One vanish into thin air.

The mad scientist could only stare at the empty spot in which the gamer and the pink orb had stood only moments ago. Had it been scientifically possibly for his jaw to have actually hit the floor, he was positive that it would have crashed through the floor.

No sooner had the expression of disbelief passed across his face was it replaced with another expression. Immediately, his normally twitching hands steadied as they clenched into two angry fists. His lips curled into a stern, furious frown as he stalked over to the console, slamming his hand down upon the controls.

"Nimue!" Insano shouted,

"_This unit is now online_," Nimue's calm voice echoed through the speakers, "_But for future reference, I would appreciate it if you did not yell at me to get my attention._"

"Nimue," Insano said, the giggling manic quality having evaporated from his voice like water on hot sand, "Sound the alarms and have everyone meet in the command center, immediately. We've got an emergency on our hands."

"_Understood_," the artificial intelligence unit said. Almost immediately, a loud wail echoed through the room as the sirens were activated.

In a matter of minutes the others had gathered into the room. While the serious expressions on their faces suggested that they assumed that the alarm had indicated that the computers had found another missing reviewer, they were given pause as they noticed two things wrong with this scene.

For starters, The Yellow Ranger was clearly absent. That, and a furious redness painted Insano's cheeks as his fingertips flew over the buttons and knobs on the control panel. Without a word, Doctor Tease and Professor Celluloid began assisting their spiral-goggled leader.

"Insano," Linkara asked, "What's the problem? Where's Spoony?"

"Spoony_ is_ the problem!" Insano yelled, "The damned idiot just kidnapped my son, and jumped out of here!"

Once more, Linkara felt the uncomfortable feeling of his stomach sinking, threatening to drop onto the floor below. Damn it, he swore to himself, he should have known that this was going to happen. Part of him wanted to call his dark-haired friend childish and selfish for running away like that, but a little part in his mind could not help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

He knew Spoony well enough to know that he wasn't the type who just easily gave up without a reason. Heck, he almost laughed, the man had gotten over being _dead _more than once. So, for Spoony to have left them like that, he reasoned that something about the last few missions had really shaken him up a lot worse than any of them had thought.

The others didn't seem to be handling the news much better than he was. Chick rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh as if to say '_Really? And he took Insano's kid with him? What an idiot.'. _ Nearby, MarzGurl's hands were clenched into trembling fists as she took deep breaths, as if she were focusing every ounce of her energy into keeping herself from beating a hole into the nearby wall. Critic, on the other hand, was doing considerably less to even mask his emotions.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Critic fumed, "Why?!"

"I don't know!" Insano shouted, over the frantic clicking of keys "But if I had to make a hypothesis—I'd say that it was because of that argument that you and he had earlier today, combined with the fact that he's a colossal idiot. Don't know why he felt the need to drag my son into this, however."

Critic huffed, grumbling a string of curses under his breath. However, his furrowed brow and downcast gaze seemed to say more than what his words did. Part of him was worried about Spoony, it hinted. Sure, he might have often put his friends in dangerous situations in the past, he reasoned, but he was different now. He didn't want to see any of friends get hurt.

"Well," Chick said, "Spoony still has his morpher on him. So, why don't we just re-trace the last location the transporter beamed to, and then use his morpher to pinpoint his signal? Shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"That's true," Professor Celluloid replied, "But just because we find the morpher, doesn't mean that we find Spoony. So, if we're just sorting through regular bio-rhythmic signals, it's going to take a while."

Doctor Tease was about to speak, when once more the alarm blared, sending the lights in the room into a brief frenzy before being shut off by the blonde doctor.

"Damn it," she swore instead as she pressed a few more buttons, "As if we didn't have enough trouble before. Give me a second, I'm running a more thorough analysis right now. Ah, there we go."

The data that appeared on the screen was enough to make Critic look as if he'd seen a ghost. His hands and feet felt numb as he nearly stumbled into the console on his way to more closely read the data. It couldn't possibly be true, he wondered, could it?

It couldn't have been telling him that they had found The Other Guy.

The Red Ranger didn't know how to take this news. On one hand, this was probably the best news to happen all day. His brother was alive and well, waiting for them to rescue him. On the other hand, this more than likely meant that, whatever dimension The Other Guy was in, he'd probably have had his memory altered and thus wouldn't recognize Critic or the others.

Plus, he added bitterly, this probably meant that it was likely that Malachite's minions would be nearby, and the whole thing would end with The Other Guy getting turned into a raging monster that was set on destroying everything in its path.

He wasn't sure that he could handle being forced to fight against his own brother.

"Hmm," Tease said, biting her lip as she read over the information, "From what I'm reading here, this universe isn't all that much different than our own in structure."

"Wow," Celluoid remarked, adjusting his glasses, "That's the most solid reading we've had in ages. I can probably teleport you guys pretty close to where he is."

Linkara crossed his arms as he also examined the information. Something didn't feel right about any of this. Professor Celluloid was right; the reading was incredibly strong. Perhaps it was a little _too _strong. It could have been a trap set up by Malachite's forces to capture them and possibly kill them. On the other hand, if this was real, then they couldn't just sit around and let Malachite take him again.

"I don't like it," Chick said, "This is obviously a trap. The only way that this could be more obvious is a flashing neon sign that has the words _'This is a trap'_ written on it in huge letters."

"What if it isn't?" MarzGurl replied, "There's no way that I'm letting that General creep or any of his pals take anyone else."

"If it's a trap," Critic said, "Then we'll just have to go in and bust it up like we always do. I say we go."

"Wait a minute," Insano said, "You're not going anywhere until we get my son and Spoony back here!"

The shade of red that Critic's face flushed matched the color of his morpher as he felt a vein of agitation twitch in the corner of his forehead. Insano had a point—they didn't stand a chance against Tegon, Devafen and The General while they weren't at full strength. Damn it, Critic swore to himself, why had Spoony chosen now to be more difficult than he normally was?

"Forget it, Doc," Critic said, "This is my brother we're talking about here. I'm not going to let myself lose him again, damn it!"

"And_ I_ can't allow myself to lose_ my_ family!" Insano replied, his voice rising angrily.

A stunned silence fell over the room as the mad-scientist began shaking, turning his back to the team as he fought back a small stream of glistening tears

"I can't bear to go through that again," he whispered in a trembling voice.

The orange haired professor gently patted his colleague's shoulder as he exchanged a brief, sympathetic look with his female colleague. He remembered how Linksano and Doctor Block's disappearance had all but crushed their spirits. After all, for them, not only had that been their first real mission, but also their first failure. But more than that, he knew that to his two colleagues had been closer to the two missing scientists than he had ever been. After all, while Linksano and Insano argued a lot, they were still brothers. And Tease and Block had been more like sisters than best friends.

"Insano," Critic said, "I'm sorry. But, Celluoid's right—it'd take too long for us to find Spoony or your son. If this isn't a trap, then we might not have that much time before we lose Rob forever."

"Besides," MarzGurl added, "We know Spoony's a moron, but he's not stupid enough to do anything to get your son hurt. They'll be okay."

"How about this," Chick said, "We get in there, bust up the bad guy's plan like we always do and if Spoony hasn't snapped out of this and decided to bring your son back, we'll go find him and kick his ass for you."

Insano's shoulders relaxed as he swallowed back some spit and regained enough composure to look up again. A small smile, not quite as confident or sly as his usual grin but still reassuring, spread across his lips as he looked back at Rangers and the other two scientists.

"Alright," He said, "But you'd better get it over with quick, okay? I'm not going to sit around and let my son be lost out there forever, you know."

The Rangers said nothing, instead only choosing to give a quick nod as they readied themselves for teleportation. With a few quick taps on the control panel, the Ranger's morphers began to blink, as they felt themselves being teleported away from the base.

Had they know what was to await them once they arrived in this new dimension, however, they probably would not have been eager to so quickly and foolishly venture headfirst into this mission.

* * *

><p>A faint scrabbling noise echoed through the cavernous tunnels, a mangy-looking rat sprinting across the stone floor. It ducked left, dodged right, and let out a high-pitched squeak as it barely avoiding colliding with a blue-clad leg. Marzgurl flinched out of the way, shivering.<p>

"Lovely," she snarked.

The Rangers had found themselves inside a nightmare- long, curving passageways with almost no light. Condensation dripped from the ceiling, the dampness of the air making the hair stand up on their necks. And nicest of all, a weird, inhuman thrumming was echoing through the space, almost below the range of their hearing. They unconsciously drew closer together.'

"What kind of universe is this?" Chick muttered. "Charles Manson's fever dreams?"

"Whatever it is, my brother is down here somewhere," Critic answered shortly. "We need to start moving."

Shoving down his misgivings, he began to walk and was slightly gratified to see his team following him. Their footsteps echoed oddly, mixing together and bouncing down the passage.

"This is just creepy," Linkara whispered. "It's like we're the last people on Earth. Or… whatever this is."

"I don't think so," Critic answered. He raised a hand to point down the way, and sure enough a thin figure could be seen shuffling towards them. They walked slowly towards it, with more than a few hands creeping unconsciously towards their morphers.

As they drew closer, goosebumps rose on their arms.

The man looked like he had lost twenty pounds that he couldn't afford, as his clothes were soaking wet and pooling over his emaciated frame. All the pigment seemed to have faded from his skin, and light blue veins were visible in his face. His eyes were deeply set in his skull, blinking slowly within red, irritated eyelids. He walked with a limping gait, one leg dragging uselessly behind him.

The team stopped a few feet away, and the man ground to a halt. His mouth worked noiselessly for a moment, and then he was still. There was a long silence.

Critic stepped forward.

"Uh… hello." He said, tepidly

The man didn't respond.

"Right…." He continued, "We're… we're looking for someone. My brother is somewhere down here. About my height. Brown hair. Glasses."

The man made a low, keening noise deep in his throat. The other reviewers took a collective step backwards.

"Critic, we should go," Linkara muttered, eyes glued to the figure in front of them.

"Look, have you seen him?" Critic wouldn't be deterred. "We could use some help."

The man blinked lethargically, eyes taking on a new, hungrier look. _"Help…"_ His voice was like sandpaper on rough stone, sending chills down their spine.

Critic swallowed against a dry throat. "Yeah. Help."

"_Help,"_ the man echoed, tilting his head to the side. He reached out a hand, gripping the sleeve of Critic's jacket.

"_Help,"_ he repeated, voice growing louder. _"Help… Help."_

"Okay… thanks for everything. Gosh, it's getting late," Critic stammered out, attempting to wrench his arm away from the man's grasp. "We really should be going, guys." The man didn't let go, dirty fingernails digging into Critic's arm.

"_Help,"_ he rasped, reaching the other arm out as well. _"HELP."_

Critic strained backwards, almost falling as Chick lunged forward and pushed the thin man to the side. The team took off running, the man's frenzied cries urging them on. The Critic led the pack, sprinting. He flinched with every raspy plea, the voice seeming to bury into his ears.

"_Help…" _

* * *

><p>They had been running for almost ten minutes before they slowed to a walk. It was thirty more minutes before they couldn't continue- not from exhaustion, but because they could feel their minds beginning to crack.<p>

The caverns were never ending, winding up and down with no pattern. Strange noises would resonate from all sides, reminding them of anything from the whines of an injured dog to the screams of children- sometimes, both at once. They had seen several more shadowy figures, but no one dared to approach them. At one point, a faint stroke of daylight had been visible up ahead, growing further away as they approached it.

The team sat in disarray, curled up to the side of the cavern. Chick and Marzgurl had their arms wrapped around their knees, shivering. Linkara knelt, scratching a line into the dirt on the floor. And furthest away was the Critic, furiously rubbing at his arm. He could still feel the man's thin fingers wrapped around his wrist.

Chick cleared her throat, voice oddly thick. "I want to go home." Five simple words, but her empty stare said so much more.

Marzgurl nodded slowly. "Me too."

Linkara straightened up, glancing at the two girls. He couldn't help but think that if Spoony was here, he'd know what to do. What to say. Some quip to lighten the mood, or a perfect cheesy joke to make the Critic groan while the others laughed. But he was gone. And all Linkara could think to do right now was agree with them. He pushed up his sleeve, starting to tap the buttons on his morpher.

"Put it away." Critic's tone was dangerous. His eyes were fixed on the wall, fingernails tearing at his arm.

"This is hopeless," Linkara argued faintly. "We can't stay down here any longer. We're going to lose our minds." His gaze flicked down to the older man's forearm- the nails were tearing it red and raw.

"We're not leaving without my brother," the Critic answered, "We can't. Not when we're so close."

"Close?" Linkara could feel a little force returning to his voice, "We're not close- we're not anywhere. We can't take any more of this. If we stay down here, we might end up like them."

He pointed in front of him, as down the hallway a new pale figure slumped into view. Linkara swallowed hard, but the next volley of words died in his throat as he got another look at the new figure.

A familiar profile.

A porkpie hat.

Glasses.

Critic followed his gaze, eyes widening in recognition. He pushed himself up, heading towards the figure. The rest of the Nexus team followed, slower. As they approached, the figure raised his head to meet their gazes. His skin was significantly paler than before, and his eyes bloodshot and deeper within his skull, but there was no mistaking him.

The Red Ranger swallowed hard, taking a step forward. "Rob?"

The Other Guy's head tilted slightly, but his face remained impassive. His eyes held no hint of recognition. Critic stepped a bit farther forward.

"We came to get you," he said in a tone none of them had ever heard him use. "I know you might not remember us… but we're taking you home."

The Other Guy swayed a bit on the spot. After a long minute, he raised a thin hand in front of him. Linkara thought it looked like he was shielding himself, but the Critic's face relaxed slightly.

"Do you remember me?" He asked as raised a hand to meet his brother's.

And that was when everything- quite literally- started to fall apart.

The Other Guy's fingertips blackened, and started to crumble, falling apart like dry sand. His face remained impassive, but his eyes widened slightly in apparent panic. The darkness spread up his arm, and the man started to fall apart, piece by piece.

The Critic panicked- his eyes wide, he reached out both hands to his older brother but grabbed nothing but black dust. With a low, keening groan, The Other Guy dissolved. The last to go was his face, eyes piercing them in sheer terror.

And then he was gone, and everything was quiet.

The Critic made no noise; he didn't move. His hands were still held out in front of him, stained with black dust. He took a shallow, trembling breath. And then he took another breath.

A scream- angry, animalistic- erupted from his throat, and with no warning he threw himself forward and slammed a fist against the stone wall nearby. He swung wildly over and over, blood soon starting to trickle down his knuckles. All the while, he screamed, stopping only to gasp for breath.

The Rangers didn't move. Marzgurl's wide-eyed gaze was fixed solidly on the ground, arms wrapped around herself; she was shaking. Chick's unblinking stare, on the other hand, was only on her boss and counterpart, flinching slightly with each punch. But Linkara's eyes were closed, trying to block out what had just happened. He couldn't take any more of this.

He couldn't.

And then, from the back of his head, a small voice spoke to him.

_Open your eyes._

He jumped slightly as he recognized the voice; faint, girlish, comforting. The Girl in the Gun was speaking to him. But why did she sound so strained? Why was her voice so quiet?

_Open your eyes. Partner. Friend. Open your eyes._

But he couldn't. Not when all that was waiting for him was stone and blood and death and madness. If he opened his eyes, he'd lose his mind.

_Open your eyes,_ The girl laughed at him,_ See the truth. _

And somewhere, deep in his mind, something clicked.

The sinking feeling he'd gotten once he landed; the almost unnoticeable drain on his energy. The atmosphere of the cave? Or someone tapping into the magic in the area? Crawling around, unbidden, in his head?

Linkara took a deep breath, focused, and opened his eyes. He squinted immediately, shocked at the bright sunlight surrounding him. After a moment, he looked around, and his stomach sank.

The cave was gone. Everything was, in fact. The stones, the darkness, even the hideous black dust that had been previously drifting through the air. The reviewers were standing in an empty space, in what looked like a desert. The air was dry and the sun beat down uncomfortably, and dust coated every inch of their clothes.

In front of him, his teammates stood in the same positions, unmoved. The Critic was swinging wildly at empty air, howling in unintelligible rage. Marzgurl and Chick didn't move, eyes staring, unseeing, into the distance. In front of all of them, perched casually on a boulder, was a feminine figure, smiling widely. His eyes widened as he took in the birdlike features, the unabated interest she had in his suffering friends in front of him. Linkara bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from cursing.

As he watched, the woman raised her wrist to her mouth, and tapped a few buttons.

"Come in, lizard-head." A burst of angry-sounding static erupted from the commlink. Linkara couldn't make it out, but the girl smiled cheerfully, "Phase One of the plan is complete!"

"Such language!" she teased, "You might change your tune when you hear this." She skipped lightly off the rock, and walked towards Critic, who stared right through her as if she weren't there.

She held her wrist towards him, as he let out a fresh burst of hatred. There was a short silence, and then a shimmering nearby formed into a familiar shape. Tegon faded into view, brow furrowed in irritation. He blinked, unimpressed at the Rangers, eyes snapping to the girls, to the Critic, and to Linkara. Feeling the eyes on him, Linkara sunk to his knees, holding his arms over his face as though he couldn't bear to watch any longer.

The lizard man looked at him for a moment longer, before striding forward and tracing one, menacing claw along the Nostalgia Chick's face. A small line of blood dripped down her cheek.

The Pink Ranger didn't bat an eye.

Tegon turned to the bird-girl, looking even more irritated than usual. "Good work, Retsukagi."

She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Now how did that make you feel?" she asked

"Like I drank poison," Tegon spat. He snapped his fingers, and the dirt ground around him erupted into four golems of mud, forming themselves quickly into Synthspectors. The bird-girl shivered dramatically.

"Cree-pyyyyyyyyyyy…." She drew out in a long whine, and Tegon growled low as the Synthspectors moved around the group, surrounding them on all sides.

"Devafen," Tegon barked into his commlink. "Six to transport."

Linkara felt a hot stab of panic erupt in his stomach, and he frantically punched a few buttons on his morpher. A burst of static, and then the muffled voice of Insano was audible.

"_Linkara? Whe-"_

Linkara slammed his hand over the speaker, hissing into the mouthpiece.

"Stop talking. Stop talking _now._ Did you load Spoony's coordinates into the Nexus mainframe yet? Yes or no?"

"_What? Yes, of course. I haven't forgotten him; the smug bastard still has my-"_

That was all Linkara needed. He began furiously typing at the morpher, as quietly as he could. Nimue was still the controller of the mainframe, and she had always had a decent grasp of difficult situations. Of course, Insano would probably be concerned why his transporter was operating without him, but there was no time to worry about that. He had to get away, and there was only one other person on his team that could help now.

He flicked his gaze upwards to check on his friends. Critic had run out of steam, and was kneeling on the ground, slumped. Retsukagi was walking in a circle around Marzgurl, who had sunk down to sit, crosslegged, on the ground, hands over her face. Chick was pacing back and forth, staring down passageways that existed only in her mind. Tegon was typing away, but seemed to feel eyes upon him- his gaze snapped up, and met Linkara's.

"Nimue, now! Do it now!" Linkara snapped, standing up and backing away. Tegon snarled, and Retsukagi's eyes snapped up, her focus broken.

Immediately, the Critic's head snapped up, eyes wide as he looked around in disbelief. Marzgurl jumped, letting out a shout of surprise, and Chick stumbled like someone had pushed her. Synthspectors closed in, gripping them tightly and painfully. One moved in to grab Linkara, but he disappeared in its grasp.

In a flash of ozone, the Green Nexus Ranger was gone, leaving his team behind.

* * *

><p>Linkara wasn't sure where he'd landed when he woke up, blinking wearily.<p>

Brown. Brown everywhere. Every inch he could see was covered in a thick layer of dirt. He stood up, dusting himself off.

He was standing in the middle of a ghost town. Every building seemed to be deserted, and nothing made a sound. As he watched, an empty hamburger wrapper made a sad loop in the wind before being snatched up by a rail-thin cat.

The Green Ranger's head was swimming, and he looked down at his morpher. The lights were dark; he was alone, with no way to get out of this… well, shithole if he was being frank. Dizzy, he staggered over to nearby pile of cardboard and slumped down to think.

"_HEY!"_

A loud voice startled him alert, and he was pushed bodily to the ground. The cardboard was occupied, and out of it emerged…

Linkara blinked in surprise.

"What the _hell?!_ That was my _house!_ " A dirty looking man in tan jacket yelped, "I'd just gotten the new bathroom retiled! Do you know how hard it is to tile the floor of a cardboard bathroom?!"

Linkara stared at him in disbelief. _"Chester?"_

"How do you know my name?"The Bum cocked his head to the side, curious. _Are you from the govern-na-ment?" _

Linkara shook his head, and the Bum's eyes widened as though seeing him for the first time.

"Say… that's a nice coat."

Linkara looked down. His coat was torn, bloodied, and burned from his fight with Malachite's forces. "Uh… yeah?"

Chester nodded fervently.

"Uh-huh. HEY! Lester!" Behind him, a new figure excavated itself from a pile of garbage and slumped over. Linkara's mouth fell open; it was_ him_. As a Bum. What the…?

"Look at this guy's coat," Chester was saying, and Not-Linkara's mouth opened wide enough to see all thirteen cavities.

"_OMIGOSH,_ that is the nicest coat I've ever seen in my _life_!"

"Where?" a new voice asked, and yet another figure waddled over. Familiar eyes stared him down, framed by greasy pigtails. "Ooh! Fancy-shmancy!"

Linkara figured if his mouth fell open one more time, he was going to get lockjaw. _"Chick?"_

"Hey, mister," Not-Chick asked craftily. "What would it take to get that coat from you?"

Linkara thought fast. "Welllll…." He said, "Do you guys have someone in charge?" The three of them nodded.

"You'll get the coat, if you take me to your leader." He blinked, laughing slightly, "I have always wanted to say that."

Chester and Lester nodded, but Not-Chick folded her arms.

"Coat first." She said, holding out her hand,

After a brief internal struggle, Linkara shrugged off his coat and tossed it to them. Not-Chick lunged for it but her much taller companions got there first. The two Bums each held a sleeve, tugging at the coat until- to Linkara's horror- it ripped loudly in half.

The Bums didn't seem worried, happily pulling on their own half over one arm before waving him after them down the street. Not-Chick wandered away, grumbling loudly about coat-thieves and fluoride.

Linkara followed the Bums, trying to avert his eyes from the legions of homeless that seemed to populate every street corner. Wide eyes begged him to stop, and more than once the cry of "Spare change?" reached his ears.

Eventually they reached a liquor store with broken windows, shelves long empty. The Bums stepped casually through the window and waved him inside.

"Your High-mi-nuh-ness!" Chester called out, " We bring you a stranger with a nice hat!"

From the shadows in the back of the store emerged a figure. A familiar figure, wearing a dirty Burger King crown and a humorless smile.

"Hey, Linkara," Spoony said. "Welcome to my kingdom."

* * *

><p>Linkara and Spoony retreated to a back room, where a few cartons of flat beer still resided. Spoony slumped down in the center of a pile of empty cans, cracking a new one open. He offered it to Linkara, who didn't move. He merely stared around the room, taking in the scarred walls.<p>

"What is this place?"

Spoony smirked. "The Bum Universe," he replied, "Poverty at an all-time high. Around ninety percent. World-wide. Basically, the closest thing to our own universe I could think of."

Linkara felt his stomach sink. "So that was-"

"You as a Bum." Spoony took a swig of beer, swallowing with effort. "They call him Lester, or something. Spooky, huh?"

"And you're their king?" Linkara couldn't help but grin, "That's gotta be a huge boost to your ego."

"Yeah, as if my ego wasn't _already _the size of a planet," Spoony grinned back, "Pecking order is based off of money, here. I'm the richest person they've met in years; they crowned me in minutes."

"How much do you have on you?"

Spoony smile slipped. "Seventeen dollars and twenty-three cents."

The tension that perfumed the silence in the air could have knocked out an elephant, as the two stood, their eyes focusing on everything but each other. They felt as if the two had a wall of glass around them. It was as if they knew their words would be like throwing stones, crashing the fragile crystalline barrier until every emotion they'd kept bottled within came spilling out.

Yet, at the same time, both of them wanted to be the first to break that barrier for the sheer fact that, once it was broken, they wouldn't feel as if they were drowning anymore.

"You realize that everyone hates you right now," Linkara said bluntly, "Insano thinks you kidnapped his son, dude."

Spoony whistled, and from a stack of empty crates emerged a dirty-looking SOI. He chirped happily at the sight of Linkara, bouncing over and burrowing into his neck.

"He's fine," Spoony smiled. "He made himself a nice little fort over there." SOI purred in agreement.

The room fell silent, until Spoony cleared his throat. "Where's everyone else?"

"Captured," Linkara said, only a little bitterly.

"What?" Spoony gasped, choking on beer.

The story didn't take long, and Spoony stared off into space, shaking his head.

"Shit," he whistled. "I'm not even gone for a day and you guys lose it. I knew it."

"Not funny."

"I know."

There was another long silence. Finally, Linkara swallowed and started to speak.

"Spoony…" he said, "I'm sorry for what Critic and I said. You-re not-"

"Yes, I am," Spoony interrupted. He crumpled the can in his fist and threw it over his shoulder. "A coward. I'm a dirty coward, and an asshole, and a dickish dick. So don't apologize; you had it right."

He paused, then let out a dark chuckle.

"You know why I really picked this place? I thought it would make me _feel better about myself_. A king among paupers. But Jesus… this place is like living in one of those sad Sarah MacLachlan commercials with the sad puppies. It started making me miss Oreo even worse. I mean, _look _out there."

Linkara risked a glance out the window. Across the street, a five-year-old in a too-big shirt was trying to eat a rock. Nearby was an old man, staring into space. Linkara winced, pulling away from the window.

"God Almighty." Linkara sighed, "this is just…."

"I know," Spoony said, "And you know what I realized? That's us, or worse. This is our universe if I don't stop feeling sorry for myself and get off my ass. So don't apologize to me."

He paused, and then murmured. "I'm sorry."

Linkara felt a smirk pass over his face.

"Good," he said, "Keep saying that. But, for the record, none of us were right about any of this. Maybe we both should have been a bit more careful. I mean, tensions are high and we're both terrified—"

"Hey now," Spoony winked, "Let's not turn this into some after-school special, hurt/comfort fic, okay?"

The two looked at one another, barely able to keep themselves from laughing. Soon, their laughs filled the dirty, run-down room with warmth that both of them felt had been gone far too long.

"Now," Linkara asked, "how do we get out of here?"

"I believe I can help with that."

The raspy voice made them turn in shock. General Vanmir stood in the doorway, helmet tilted casually to the side and arms crossed. SOI let out a screech and ducked behind the two Rangers as they stood up. In one swift motion, Linkara drew his Magic Gun, aiming it at the General's helmet.

"You have five seconds to piss off," Spoony growled, "before I shove a hammer up your shiny metal ass."

"Just tell us what you want," Linkara said, still aiming at the General, "And leave. In case you forgot, we've got a few friends that we've got to rescue because of you and you're little group."

"Easy there," The General said, holding up a hand, "If I was going to kill you, I'd have done it already. You want to help your friends, right? Then listen carefully."

The two, though still not convinced of the man's trustworthiness, they lowered their defensive stances just slightly.

"I've heard that you've been up against Retsukagi's illusions before," General Vanmir said, looking over at the gamer, "Right, Spoony?"

Spoony nodded slowly, suspiciously eyeing the masked man with uncertainly. What exactly was this man getting at, he wondered? Of course he'd fought against it, he thought—he'd fallen for it a little too easily.

"What do you remember about it?" The General asked.

"Hmm," Spoony bit his lip, "I remember it being really dark when I was running around. And, I think I remember her breaking her concentration at one point."

Immediately, the gamer's green eyes sparked as an idea came through his head. It was as if suddenly as if he had been only looking at half of the picture before. The answer seemed painfully obvious to him, now that he thought about it.

For what felt like the first time far too long for the gamer, a smile spread across his lips. This smile, didn't weigh heavily on his face as if it were only there as a barrier for less happy thoughts that he'd rather not express.

"Linkara," the gamer said, grabbing the comic reviewer by the arm, "I think I know how to get everyone out of this mess."

"That's great," The Green Ranger replied, "But, would you mind sharing with the rest of the class, please? Some of us don't operate on the same wavelength you do, remember?"

"Sorry," The Yellow Ranger said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the General, "But, I still don't trust Heavy Metal over here not to snitch on us to his buddies. No offense, pal."

The General said nothing in response, choosing instead to only tap his foot impatiently as if he thought that would make the two Rangers move faster. Immediately, Linkara reached for his morpher, only for Spoony to shake his head.

The comic reviewer quirked his head just slightly, giving the gamer a quizzical look. However, the gamer could only flash him a look that silently reassured his friend that, for once, he knew exactly what was doing.

"Linkara," Spoony said, "Contact Insano. Let him know that his son is fine, and teleport him back to the base."

Nearby, the pink orb let out an excited chirp as he leapt from his hiding place behind a cardboard box and landed on the Green Ranger's shoulder. No words of protest were spoken before Linkara punched in a handful of coordinates.

Spoony held is breath as his mad scientist double's voice echoed through the static of Linkara's morpher. He could already imagine the heart attack Insano would have when he knew that Linkara had found Spoony and SOI. And, he was almost positive that the mad scientist would probably be using him as a guinea pig for whatever crazy, dangerous experiments that he could think up of as punishment. But, at this point, part of him was pretty sure that being mutated into a radioactive sea slug probably wouldn't be enough punishment.

A brief flash of light and a surprised squeaky giggle heralded SOI being teleported back to the base, leaving the two Rangers and the General alone in the room. Now, the two looked at the black-masked man, eyeing him with the same suspicion as they would had they been cornered by a rabid dog.

"I'll drop you two as close as I can," The General said, "But, I ain't throwing my ass into the fire for you. I'm already risking too much just being here."

As the General stalked past the two of them, typing something into the device on his wrist, the two reviewers looked at one another, their eyebrows raising as their eyes darted between the man's wrist and their own.

That device, they noticed, looked similar to the morphers they wore around their wrists. However, where the mini-computer their wrists were decorated with white and their Ranger color, this one was black and gold.

They remembered something that was said back whenever they'd first been given their morphers. Insano had mentioned that they'd originally designed six morphers, but the last had been lost when Linksano and Doctor Block had disappeared during a mission. Was it possible that either the General or Malachite had been able to steal the morpher and was now using against them?

And what about Linksano and Doctor Block? They wondered. Was it possible that the General had found them and captured them? Or had had they killed them and taken it from their cold, dead hands?

Either way, neither one was exactly enthusiastic about the prospect of asking, lest they risk meeting the same possible fate. However, even if they were willing to ask, it would have been difficult, as that the armored man's morpher started blinking. Almost as if responding to the other device, the other two morphers began to flash rapidly.

"Spoony," Linkara said as the green energy of teleportation began to surround his body, "You owe me a new coat, by the way."

"If we make it out of this alive," Spoony smirked as his body started to become engulfed in sparking golden light, "I will personally learn how to sew and make a coat for you."

The Green Ranger was not given a chance to reply, as three bright flashes of light filled every square inch of the tiny room, whisking away the former inhabitants from that dimension.

Outside, the three bums, Chester, Lester and Not-Chick, as well as a few others, had gathered around the window, trying to remain hidden as they eavesdropped on their "king's" conversation with the two strangers.

Like the dirty carboard boxes they stood upon, the group toppled backwards into an unsightly heap as they were momentarily blinded by the sudden flare of light.

Once the light had faded, and their vision had returned, they dared to peek into the room again. Now, however, the room had been as empty as it had been long before Spoony's arrival. Upon noticing the now vacant room, the group was left speechless.

However, it was Chester that was the first to break that silence.

"Oh my god!" he shouted, flailing his arms about in the air as if he were a sports fan at an exciting football game, "That was the _greatest_—whatever that was—I've ever seen in my life!"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, back with the others, Critic could almost feel a new wave of panic rising within him. Like boiling water in a pan, the uncomfortable waves of panic rose within him, boiling and growing hotter until he was afraid that it would bubble forth and spill everywhere as he let out another horrifying shriek.<p>

He wanted to start running, but his feet felt numb, as if encased in three feet of solid concrete. But, even if he could run, it wasn't like he knew where he was going. While the imagined caves that he had perceived around him had vanished, he was left in nothing more than total darkness.

What was he fighting for? He wondered. Sure, part of it had been pure revenge for Ma-Ti's death. But, there was this small part of him that also decided to become a Ranger so that he could have a chance of saving his brother from having the same possible fate from befalling him as well.

But, he'd failed at that, if Rob's rapidly rotting corpse was anything to go by.

What good was revenge, anyways? The bitter voice within him asked. Sure, he could beat Malachite into a bloody pulp, but that wouldn't solve anything. Just like ranting and raging at bad films, nothing would change. Killing Malachite wouldn't bring anyone back.

In fact, the voice added, it would probably just make things worse. The others still weren't free. And, given that he would have just killed their leader, he'd be willing to bet that his remaining forces would be furious. What was to stop them from just outright killing the others that they still hadn't found, regardless of whether they were showing signs of awareness or not. After all, unlike the Rangers, Malachite's allies already knew where the other reviewers were being held.

Cold sweat trickled down his forehead as he the distant sounds as silence pressed against his ears. Even his heart felt as if it had stopped beating as a painful tightness seized his chest. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs as now the rhythmic pounding of footsteps now filled the air. A hollow clicking, tapping in time to the booted steps drew closer only served to strengthen the fear that gripped Critic's body.

Somewhere in the depths of his fear-riddled brain, he couldn't help but vaguely remember something from a biology class he'd taken in high school. The teacher had once offhandedly mentioned something about how the sounds of certain types of beetles usually warned of death. Of course, the teacher had said, this was just superstition and had clearly been proven false over the years.

Now, the Red Ranger couldn't help but imagine that soft tapping must have been almost identical sound. However, where the beetle's hollow clicks were only speculated to herald death, this sound was a known harbinger of someone who may have well been the Grim Reaper himself.

It was almost as if the shadows had shifted, forming the hatted figure of Malachite himself. For a brief moment, Critic wondered if perhaps this was yet another illusion designed to undermine the reviewer's confidence. However, there was something about the menacing aura that emanated from his presence told the Red Ranger that this was no illusion.

"Hello again," Malachite's voice rasped, "Nostalgia Critic."

"Hello again to you too," Critic spat, "You shit-eating son of a bitch."

The next thing Critic knew, he was on his back as a blue fireball from Malachite's staff collided into his gut with the force of a speeding bus.

"That's not a very nice way to greet me," Malachite replied in an eerily quiet voice, as he slowly drew closer.

"Well," Critic managed to smirk as he shakily clambered to his feet, ignoring the screaming protests of his bruised muscles, "Calling you a second rate Merlin would have been too much of a damn compliment."

Immediately, Critic regretted opening his mouth as he was once again thrown onto his back. Through his star-clouded vision, he saw Malachite now stood over him, one foot planted firmly on top of the reviewer's chest, while his staff hovered less than an inch above Critic's throat. The reviewer tried swearing to himself, but found his mouth unable to form the words. In fact, most of his body seemed paralyzed, he noticed as panic began to bubble within him.

With a jolt, MarzGurl and Chick snapped out of their frozen trances and helped the Red Ranger to his feet. As if on instinct the three raised their fists into fighting positions..

"I see," Malachite sneered, "that I shouldn't have been concerned about you or your friends. Devafen, Tegon, Retsukagi—you handle the girls. I'll deal with Critic."

With a quick shimmer, Malachite's minions appeared. At that moment, the Pink and Blue Rangers seemed to forget their fear as they quickly nodded at one another before charging at the trio. Although they knew that it wasn't a good idea to take on three of Malachite's toughest allies by themselves, they didn't really have a choice.

Linkara was nowhere to be found, and Critic had already been singled out for attack by Malachite. Yet, at the same time, a deadly fire burned in the two women's veins, replacing their fear with a fury far deadlier and more dangerous than anything they had previously felt in any of their missions.

Critic could only make a low, growl as he bared his teeth like a wild dog in response. A faint trace of a smirk passed across the sorcerer's lips as he looked at the reviewer with the same disdain that one has before crushing a bug underneath their feet.

"Critic," Malachite asked, "What do you think of the twenty-first century?"

It was now that Critic could feel himself able to talk again.

"The hell kind of question is that?!"

"Did you think," Malachite continued, ignoring the critic, "that your scientist's technological gadgetry would actually protect you? That it would actually allow you to stop the inevitable? Your team is in shambles, Critic—two of your own have abandoned you, and at least two more will most likely die on this battlefield. You see—your technology and science are worthless. In the end, you are still nothing more than a sniveling, pathetic shell of a man filled with useless impotent rage."

Critic wanted to open his mouth to protest, but once more he found himself unable to. However, this was no spell-bound paralysis, but rather one born of an overwhelming feeling of fear. Of all the possible ways to die, for some reason, he'd never imagined having his windpipe crushed by a bo-staff, while a guy crushed his ribcage with his foot would be the way that he would go.

Involuntarily, he closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of Malachite raising his staff, as he braced himself for the inevitable agony of his throat being crushed like a soda can. Damn it, he didn't want it to end this way, he thought as hot, bitter tears began to pool in the corner of his eyes.

He couldn't accept that he'd failed. He wished that he could have been the fearless, wise leader that the others could genuinely look up to and trust, rather than a deluded fool that they only tolerated out of some sort of fear or obligation. In the span of one day, what had he done? Allowed Paw to get taken to god knew where, said and done things that probably contributed to Spoony deserting the team, and the others into certain doom.

Some leader he turned out to be, he thought. What kind of leader—no, what kind of decent _person _in general—kept letting people close to him get hurt or killed because of his desires and goals? Ma-Ti, The Other Guy, his friends—it wasn't like he'd meant for any of them to ever get hurt.

Maybe, he thought, if reincarnation was a thing, he'd come back in his next life as someone who knew better than to get his friends and family involved in his insane schemes and adventures.

Suddenly, a loud twinkling crash followed by a loud shrieking wail, like fireworks being shot through a window, filled Critic's ears. The reviewer coughed and opened his eyes as he felt the pressure on his chest slacken as Malachite looked up towards the sky.

Several small pinpoints of greenish-light glimmered over-head, streaking through the darkness above them as they barreled toward the ground, sending shards of glass raining down on the field like glimmering snowflakes.

For a brief moment, through his peripheral vision, it seemed as if the darkness slowly began to break, like a dissipating fog, as patches of dim sunlight began to filter in from above. His ears strained as they picked up the faint sounds of movement, possibly coming from the platform behind him. However, he had no time to wonder what it could be as a blinding radiance filled the abandoned warehouse, showering the area in a mix of golden and greenish light. Faster than Critic could blink he felt something rush by his body, slamming into Malachite with enough force to throw him off of Critic's body.

The Red Ranger blinked as the light faded and the rest of the world came back into focus. The heavy shadows that had shrouded the empty room were gone, revealing only the rusted and dilapidated walls of an abandoned warehouse. Nearby, He could see MarzGurl and Chick, both considerably roughed up but still standing, looking confused as their three opponents had suddenly stopped fighting.

Across the room, at least a good four feet away from Critic, Malachite staggered to his feet and adjusted his sunglasses. Shakily, Critic climbed to his feet as his eyes too, fell upon where everyone was staring.

Spoony and Linkara, both of them morphed into their Ranger outfits, stood, their weapons drawn and ready to fight. Or rather, the Green Ranger's weapons were drawn, as that the large, staff-like battle hammer that the Yellow Ranger typically wielded was currently laying across the room, having been clearly been thrown at Malachite.

Without a word, Critic and the girls regrouped, morphing as they joined the Yellow and Green Rangers, while Malachite's minions surrounded their leader.

Once again the fight continued around them, filling the air with the clanging cries of metal on metal filled the wide space of the warehouse.

For every slash and hit that Malachite and his allies gave, there was at least one Ranger there to receive and return an attack. And, while the battle might not have been much more even in terms of strength and skill, the reviewers were at least glad of the absence of both Synthspectors or any transformed versions of their colleagues.

Without even a word, Spoony rushed at Retsukagi, skillfully dodging a flurry of attacks as he picked up his weapon, countering just as the bird-girl bore down upon him with a fierce kick.

"So," she frowned, "You're still around? Wow, you must be an idiot! You really would have been better off just kept cowering in whatever dirt-hole you'd crawled into."

"You really might want to try a new tactic" Spoony said between blows, "'Cause this mind-game shit is really starting to bore me. Okay, kid?"

Retsukagi's face flushed red as a she leapt into the air. A pair of large, bird-like wings sprouted from her back, allowing her to hover a few feet above the gamer.

"OH," the bird-girl shrieked, "HOW'S THIS, THEN?!"

Her face became even more bird-like and twisted as she let out a high-pitched screech that could have shattered glass. The Yellow Ranger groaned, doubling over in pain as he clasped his hands around his ears. Even with the protection of his helmet, her scream was deafening. He shivered as he involuntarily imagined that, had it been just a little louder, her scream could have probably literally caused someone's head to explode like a popped zit.

Quickly, however, the bird-girl's piercing scream was cut short as a green blast of energy darted through the air, clipping through one of her wings, causing her to tumble to the ground. Spoony looked up to see Linkara, currently dueling with Devafen, give him a brief nod and a thumbs up over his shoulder before returning to his fight.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Spoony decided to help, carefully stepping in between the Green Ranger and the cat-lady and deflecting an attack that would have surely hit his friend, had he not stepped in.

However, the two were unable to catch even a moment's breath as Retsukagi had recovered, also managing to intercept an attack as she joined her feline-esque comrade.

"Retsukagi," Devafen warned, "We may be fighting against the same opponents, but don't get in my way,"

"Sheesh," Retsukagi replied, grinning "Alright. Just leave the cute Yellow Ranger for me. I've got plans for him."

"Why does the way she says that," Spoony commented as he dodged and countered a few more attacks, "sound really creepy?"

"I dunno," Linkara replied sarcastically, alternating between shooting and hand-to-hand combat "Maybe because _it is_ really creepy?"

Meanwhile, Chick and MarzGurl were across the room, dueling with Tegon. Naturally, the lizardlike man was mostly ignoring the Blue Ranger in favor of his usual opponent. Thankfully for MarzGurl, this gave her the advantage of being able to deliver more serious attacks to him than he was to either of them.

That wasn't to say, however, that he was making it easier for either one of them. Occasionally, there would be a momentary lull in the girls' defenses, allowing him to counter with another swift strike.

"Do you mind," Tegon shouted, pushing the Blue Ranger aside as he deflected another of her attacks, "I'm trying to settle a score with your pink friend, here."

"What score?" Chick asked, "If you're meaning that running count of the number of times I've kicked your ass? There's really no need to be keeping count; you're going to have to start calculating that in scientific notation, if this keeps up. What's your deal, anyways?"

The lizard man only responded with another lunging attack, which was promptly side-stepped and countered by a strong kick in the gut by Chick.

However, Tegon was quick to recover, as he maneuvered snake-like around the Pink Ranger, grabbing her arm. The Blue Ranger was about to intercept, but she found herself being blocked as a figure clad in onyx armor materialized before her.

Without even breaking stride, the cartoon reviewer dived at the General, knocking him off his feet as she slammed into him. Quickly, the two got back to their feet; Vanmir summoning his spear as MarzGurl twirled her axes in a threatening display that told her opponent that she was not going to hold back.

"I just realized," the General said, as their weapons clashed with one another, "That I never introduced myself last time. The name's General Vanmir. Vanmir the Deathbane. I've got other names, but I can't tell you any of 'em, yet."

"It doesn't matter if you called yourself 'Princess Rainbow Fluffypants the Third,'" MarzGurl snarked between strikes, "After you kidnapped Sage, as far as I'm concerned you're just another of Malachite's monsters to me."

Although his pace did not slow, nor did he relent in his attacks, MarzGurl almost sensed a subtle change within the helmeted villain. A sudden, restrained rigidness in his posture and movements suggested that perhaps her words had hit him far harder than she realized. And yet, his calm, measured breaths told her that he may have been trying to convince himself not to let it bother him.

"Don't assume," General Vanmir replied, as he hit her with a sweeping kick, "That you've even got me figured out for a second. I'm much more deceptive than you think."

Before she could hit the ground, the Blue Ranger threw herself into a roll, just narrowly avoiding another attack as she countered him, knocking him to his knees

"Likewise, pal," she said as she stood up again, "Don't assume for a second that me, or any of the others, as stupid as you seem to think we are."

Meanwhile, Critic barely seemed aware of anyone existing around him, besides Malachite. Like two vicious lions fighting over prey, The Red Ranger and Malachite charged at each other, their weapons clashing loudest amongst the other fights currently breaking out around them.

Critic's vision tunneled, tinged with a hazy red as he brought down his sword upon the leather coat wearing sorcerer. With only a casual swipe of his staff, Malachite casually deflected the blow, knocking Critic across the room.

"Haven't you figured it out yet," Malachite asked, "That no matter what you do, it's useless to fight? I can defeat you with my eyes closed."

"With those shades," Critic shot back as he lunged at the sorcerer again, "You'd kind of have to."

"You dare to keep mocking me?!" Malachite hissed as he sidestepped past the Red Ranger's blade.

"Why should I 'dare'?," Critic replied, ducking out of the way of a swipe from Malachite's staff, "You're already mocking yourself pretty well without my help."

Without a word, the sorcerer stretched his hand out, flinging another blue fireball in Critic's direction. Thinking quickly, the reviewer planted his feet into the ground, holding his sword like a baseball bat as he hit the oncoming orb of magical flame. The smell of heat on metal filtered through his helmet, filling his nostrils with a sickening scent that made his eyes water. A searing heat, like that of a furnace, pounded against his body, accompanied by a force that threatened to rip his limbs from their sockets.

With a fierce grunt, Critic pushed forward, nearly dropping his sword as he batted the fireball back toward its caster. A shrieking hiss, like a screaming firework or a missile, filled his ears as the ball zoomed across the space before colliding with the sorcerer, sending him crashing on his back.

Blinking, Critic looked between his sword and the fallen wizard. Thankfully, he noted with a sigh of relief, while trails of smoke drifted lazily from the blade, the weapon itself was still mostly in tact, and relatively undamaged.

A frown overcame is face as he pressed the side of his helmet. Lines of red light shot from the spot, crawling across his helmet before fading, revealing Critic's bearded and bespectacled face. His blue eyes sparked with a deadly lightning, and his brow furrowed as he approached his fallen enemy.

He wanted him to see his face before he destroyed him. He wanted him to see the rage and pain in his eyes. He wanted him to look at him and see the faces of those he had hurt and killed. More than that, he wanted him to look at him and see the face of those who were left alive to deal with the pain of these deaths—all of them angry and bitter and wishing revenge.

Most of all, The Red Ranger wanted Malachite to see his face.

The face of his enemy.

Yet, something stayed Critic's hand, holding the sword just inches from the sorcerer's form. As if under the thrall of some powerful spell, the reviewer's body remained frozen, his fingertips trembling just slightly as they held tightly to his weapon.

For a moment, the Red Ranger was almost sure that the man he was looking at wasn't the same sorcerer that he had fought against only moments ago. The sorcerer's sunglasses had fallen off of his face, and now two flickering voids, like miniature black holes, stared at the Red Ranger. And yet, that was not the soulless voids that caught his attention.

It was in the few moments in which the unholy void faded, revealing a pair of brown eyes staring back at him with a pleading, haunted expression. These were not the eyes of a centuries old sorcerer who had killed millions in the name of eradicating technology and conquering the world. These were not the eyes of the being that had kidnapped Critic's friends, and killed his closest friend, and possibly destroyed his brother.

These were the eyes of a man capable of feeling emotions other than seething anger and a vengeance colder than a winter's rain.

Time seemed to slow to a halt as the two stared at each other. For a brief instant, a vision flashed through the reviewer's mind, taking him back to the grey, shadowy forest from his nightmares. Standing before the edge of the forest was Malachite. Much like the before, this version of Malachite seemed more human, at least in appearance.

Again, the swirling shapeless beast that was the swirling vortex of darkness hovered before them, its tentacles whipping wildly, like blades of grass caught in the winds of an oncoming tornado. The sorcerer seemed oblivious to it as he continued stared silently at Critic, slowly extending his hand toward the reviewer, as if beckoning him to take his hand.

Again, Critic wanted to speak, but found the words trapped within his mind.

_What are you doing?! _He wanted to ask, _Why are we here? Where is here?_

Roaring white noise filled Critic's ears as the shifting vortex moved faster and more violently. Rapidly, the dancing tendrils stretched and twisted, slowly attempting to wrap around Malachite's body.

Once more, pure panic shot through Critic's veins, as he tried to move his feet, only to find that his movements were slow, as if his body were wading in quicksand while weighted down by concrete blocks.

_Why aren't you running?_ A small part of Critic wanted to ask Malachite, _Are you blind or something? There's a freaking huge-ass black blob hovering behind you, possibly trying to strangle you!_

A calming but brilliant, blue-green aura began to glow around Malachite as the creature's tendrils circled around him, growing brighter and stronger with each passing second. Instinctively, Critic tried to shut his eyes against the blinding light; he found that confusion and terror had rendered his eyes just as paralyzed as his legs.

Before he realized it, the light struck him in the eyes, blinding him. Once the light faded, Critic found himself once more back in the abandoned warehouse with the others. It felt as if nothing had happened, as he suddenly awoke from this dream. The sorcerer's eyes no longer glimmered with the faint spark of humanity, but rather had become the two pupil-less inhuman voids of shadows

A displeased scowl returned to Malachite's countenance as he hastily put his sunglasses back on, and stood up. Around them, the sounds of battle began to die down as the Rangers and Malachite's henchmen had regrouped, now lining up on either side of their respective leaders.

"M'Lord," Tegon asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm feeling a little drained," Malachite replied, "But otherwise I'm fine. Perhaps it would be wise to retreat for now."

The sorcerer's minions, although skeptical, nodded in agreement. Silently, a glowing aura surrounded Devafen's claws as she tore open a portal in the thin air.

"You're lucky that I let you live this time," Malachite said over his shoulder as he turned toward the glowing portal, "Don't expect to be quite as fortunate the next time that we meet."

The Rangers did not move as the sorcerer and his minions crossed through portal, which immediately vanished in a dazzle of white-blue light, leaving the group alone in the darkened abandoned warehouse.

With a sigh of relief, the other four rangers dismissed their helmets and weapons. Although they felt safe enough to be unarmed and unmasked, the tension that hung in the air like an unpleasant scent, made them unable to lower their guard completely.

"So," Chick said after a long silence, "Is anyone going to talk about how Critic almost had Malachite there for a second? Seriously, what stopped you?"

Critic sighed as he shook his head. What _had_ stopped him, he wondered? Had that dream been yet another illusion that Malachite had created to distract him? Or was there something more to this that he couldn't figure out?

"It doesn't matter," he replied, "Malachite's right; we were lucky. However, he got lucky too. Next time I'm not going to let him walk away so easily."

* * *

><p>Back at the base, hours had passed and nightfall had once more settled over the dimension. However, unlike the last time that the group had all gathered together, no heated tensions danced in the air like smoke from a fire.<p>

As Critic walked down the busy streets of the holo-city an uneasy feeling swirled in the pit of his stomach. But, for once, this feeling had little to do with Malachite, or the fate of the universe. No, for once this was a task that much more mundane, but all the more unpleasant for the reviewer. It was something that he hated doing, even if it was something he absolutely had to do.

He had to apologize.

Of course, apologies weren't the main reason that he was walking along this street. Professor Celluloid had sent out a message gathering everyone together for some reason. But, he figured that since he and Spoony were inevitably going to be in the same place, one of them might as well bring up the elephant in the room.

That was to say that the gamer would be willing to talk to him after spending the last few hours waiting for Insano to stop scolding him about accidentally almost putting his son in danger. Critic could almost still hear the echoes of the mad scientist's shrieking rants echoing throughout the dimension.

Soon, he had found himself standing outside a small, octagonal building. The building kind of reminded him of a space-ship or futuristic building from one of those late-eighties children's cartoons. He was almost sure that if he stepped inside, the entire building was going to fly off and whisk him away on adventure about learning shapes and the names of planets.

Alas, he sighed, as he stepped in, no such event happened. However, the scent of pizza hit his nostrils, making him forget all about his silly notion, as well as whatever worries had plagued his mind.

The first thing he noticed was that the inside of this building, while not only reflecting the vaguely '1990s perception of the future' cheesiness with the neon-lights and back-lighting on the ceilings and walls, but also sort of vaguely resembled a clubhouse and an arcade.

The others were already there and scattered around the room. Doctor Tease's voice carried throughout the room, laughing as she and Linkara (now wearing a newer brown coat) were engaged in a discussion over science in comic books. At another table, Celluloid was talking with Insano over pizza, the latter of the two occasionally shooting a dirty glance toward Spoony, who was currently across the room, engaged in a _Dance Dance Revolution_ match against MarzGurl.

Even Nurse and the bots, who were currently listening to Chick talk about film editing techniques, had decided to take a break from their usual tasks.

Celluloid excused himself from Insano as he saw Critic enter, bounding over toward Critic like an excited puppy.

"Hey, Critic," he said, grabbing Critic by the arm and leading him inside, "I was kind of worried you weren't going to show up. Anyways, do you like the place? Doctor Tease, the bots and I have been constructing it for a little while now. We'd figure that, with all the stress that we're always under, everyone could use a place to unwind."

He waved toward a few of the doors, hidden away in the corners of the room.

"Of course," the professor explained, "We connected it to the training rooms, as well as one of the extra holodecks that Burton and Pollo helped retool for recreational use."

"Well, the place looks great," Critic replied, biting back the urge to add '_if Star Trek and Miami Vice were thrown in a blender'. _

Actually, he had to admit that the place didn't actually look too bad. They had put a lot of work into the place during such a relatively short amount of time that he couldn't help but be slightly impressed. Besides, he thought to himself as Celluloid wandered back toward Insano to continue their conversation, after everything that had happened between their last few missions, they needed a place like this.

The last notes of the song had ended, as Critic reached them. The Blue Ranger grinned as the screen read out their scores, determining that she was the winner of that match.

"Oh c'mon," Spoony whined, "I was just getting warmed up there. Next round I'd totally have beat you!"

"Yeah, yeah," the purple-haired woman replied, "That's what you said three rounds ago."

"Hey, Marz," Critic asked, tapping her on her shoulder, "You mind if I take the next round? I kind of need to talk to Spoony."

MarzGurl nodded, giving an understanding look toward both her male colleagues. Both of them seemed as if they wanted to flee and hide in opposite corners of the room, but were only managing to keep themselves from doing so by sheer force of will.

"Sure," she replied, stepping off the platform, "Besides, I figure that I better retire while I'm still undefeated. I think I'm gonna go get a drink or something. If you guys need me for anything, just ask."

Once she had walked away, the two were left in awkward silence. With only a shrug, the two started the next round. For a few seconds, they followed the arrows that flashed on the screen in silence, avoiding eye contact with one another. Soon, however, the silence could not be maintained any longer, and Critic was the first to break it.

"So," Critic said, his eyes still focused on the screen, "How're you doing? I guess Insano's punishment hasn't caused you to grow a third eye and gills, yet."

"I think he was getting some sick enjoyment out of using me as a guinea pig for his experiments," Spoony replied, also still focused on the game, "Nurse is still pretty ticked at me as well, even though she denies it. And, I'm pretty sure Burton's a bit miffed too, but more 'cause I forgot to take him with me than anything else."

Critic chuckled to himself as he once more went silent. Unlike the last time, this awkward silence didn't last very long before the Red Ranger spoke again. This time, his voice was quieter, with no hint of malice or sarcasm that typically gave tone to his voice.

"Listen," He said, "I'm sorry that I kind of went nuclear on you—I was just stressed, you know? About this whole Malachite business and Rob and well, everything."

The Yellow Ranger was quiet as he continued focus on following the steps on the screen. However, his steps had slowed, and his gaze lowered just slightly, as his mind recalled things that he'd wanted to forget.

"Dude," he replied after a while, "You don't have to apologize. I'm not exactly proud of myself, either. I really should have talked with you guys before just deciding to just abandon you like that."

"You realize that that kind of freaked us out, right?" Critic said.

"I know," Spoony said quietly.

"So," Critic asked, "Now that things are kind of back to normal, are you planning on leaving again? I mean, don't feel like you're obligated to stick around 'cause of us, y'know."

Once more, the gamer said nothing as the two finished the last steps of the song. Now that the two were no longer distracted, they were able to meet each other's eyes. This time, neither angry glares nor downcast reluctance existed in their expressions.

"Look," Spoony said, his tone calmed and measured, "There's still a lot about this whole mess and how I fit in this team that I don't get—that's probably not ever going to change, no matter where I go. But, you guys are my friends. Hell, you're probably a bit more like family, sometimes. And I can't just sit around and let you guys get hurt. So, I think I'm going to stick around for a while, and try to figure this stuff out I go along."

"Well," Critic said, playfully punching the gamer on the arm "I'm glad you're staying. But, you're still an idiot."

"And you're still a raging jackass," Spoony winked, returning the punch with one of his own.

The two reviewers stared at each other for a moment, as if they were about to attack each other once more, before they started laughing. Nearby, MarzGurl had retuned. Her brow furrowed at the sight of the two men play-fighting with one another, exchanging witty insults with one another. However, her expression softened into a smile as she heard the warmth of laughter in their voices.

"Oh you two," she sighed, grinning as she caught the both of them in a hug that seemed more like a playful headlock, "What are we going to do with you? C'mon, you two—let's go get some pizza."

Laughing, she dragged them away to join the others. For once, she couldn't help but feel like this was more like the old times that they all had missed so much. Sure, there were still the threats of Malachite and his forces, and several of their co-workers were still missing, but right now none of it mattered.

Right now, all that mattered to them was that, for a moment, they were having fun just relaxing and talking. They knew that things would never be like they were before, and that this was the closest thing to their normal lives that they'd be able to know until this was over with.

That's why, she thought to herself, she wanted to enjoy this moment as much as she possibly could.

Who knew when they'd be able to have a moment like this again?

* * *

><p><em>Trivia: Retsukagi is based very loosely on the Japanese Yokai (mythical creature) known as the Yosuzume, or Night Sparrow, which is a sparrow that is believed to be capable of causing night blindness. She is also very loosely based on Mystia Lorelei of the Tohou series of video games (another humanoid Night Sparrow based character, who is capable of causing confusion by singing). However, I tweaked up the blindness ability to be able to also create illusions for those affected by her blindness spell, so long as she's focused on creating the illusion. <em>


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